Class 




Book 






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The Famous Sh^ve Dagon Pagoda, Rangoon. 



IN THE 



Land of Pagodas 



by 
ROBERT B. THURBER 



^ 



SOUTHERN PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION 
NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE 
ATI.ANTA, Georgia Fort Worth, Texas 






Copyrighted 1921, by 

Soulhern Publishing Association 

Nashville, Tetinessee 



FEB 28 1921 
0)CI.A608793 



To the valiant Christian youth 
of America this little hook is 

' DEDICATED 

with the hope of the author 
that it may inspire in them 
a love of those other youth 
who live on the opposite side 
of the earth 



CONTENTS 



I Called Over 9 

II The Gate ..... 21 

III The Way In . . . . .35 

IV Strangers Within ... 57 
V The Burman Himself — and Herself 69 

VI The Way Up Country . . 84 

VII Of the Burmans Burmese . .107 

VIII The Lure in the Gospel Net 132 

IX The Tongue and the Script . 156 

X The Fruits of the Ground . 170 

XI The Beasts that Perish . .184 

XII The Heat and the Hills . . 206 

XIII Play Time . . .220 

XIV The Industrial Method . . 244 
XV The Everyday of Missionary Life 264 

XVI The Rewards of Labor . . 280 
XVII The Way Out 305 



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CHAPTER I 

CALLED OVER 

A LITTLE party of eager missionaries, we 
lined the rail of the Lunka as she plowed 
her way through the yellow waters of the 
Gulf of Martaban. Beckoned to the Orient to 
answer insistent calls from newly opened fields, 
we were at last on the vfery threshold of the 
"silken East." Home ties had been strained, 
and were beginning to lose their pull, while 
our eyes were longing to catch the first glimpse 
of the land of our adoption. 

The view was not assuring — as to scenery. 
Our expectant gaze met low mud banks rising 
out of the delta flood, a closer look descrying 
them fringed with palm trees, whose spindling 
trunks crisscrossed on the horizon line and 
lifted wayy tufts into the shimmering heat 
waves of the late afternoon. 

Our steamer slowly swung in a gigantic arc 
up toward a broad opening in the interminable 
flats. The sea-gulls, welcomers to every coast, 
wheeled and screamed about our heads. Away 



10 In the Land of Pagodas 

to the north a smoky mist shrouded the land, 
seeming strangely out of keeping with the soft 
sunset light that bathed the turbid waters 
around us. 

We were wondering what next after mud and 
mist, when someone suddenly exclaimed, "Oh 
look!" — and there, far ahead, rising sheer out 
of the lowlands, a tapering shape towered from 
the gloom that hid its base, its gilded point 
catching a glint of the golden west. Dominat- 
ing the entire landscape, the first object of inter- 
est, it held our keen attention and started a 
thought- train of wonder and curiosity. 

Then at our side a fellow-traveler, who had 
been over the way before, volunteered an ex- 
planation: "The Shwe Dagon Pagoda, the 
largest of its kind in the world. Among hundreds 
of thousands of others it stands supreme. Its 
top is over five hundred feet above the city 
below. Its sides are partly covered with gold 
plates; and parts of it were studded with jewels 
in the old days. Some say they are still." 

We caught our breath with renewed interest, 
and gazed long and fixedly at the far-away 
shrine, utterly oblivious of our near approach to 
the entrance of the Rangoon River. But twi- 
light slowly settled down, shutting the great 
tower frcm view. Now the river banks were 



Called Over ii 

close up and showed signs of human habita- 
tion. Yet here were other pagodas of every 
size, their tops peeping from behind clumps of 
palms or bamboo and showing boldly white in 
the thickening dusk, — every one a model of the 
father of them all. Then the full realization 
stole upon us that at last we were in "the land 
of pagodas." 

It is a wonder country, is Burma. Once under 
its spell, the lure of it is irresis table. With a 
fair share of the sordid and the unbeautiful 
common to every heathen land, yet it seems to 
the traveler different from others, — and better. 

Among the American missionaries entering 
this far eastern country in the early years of the 
present century were Heber H. Votaw and his 
wife, sent out by the Seventh-day Adventist 
Mission Board. Like Adoniram Judson, the 
pioneer in this field, the Votaws did not start 
for Burma. They had set their hearts on India, 
but God set their feet on Burma. And it was 
not long before their vital interests were entirely 
wrapped up in gospel endeavor for the attrac- 
tive Burmese. 

As the years passed, the little company grew 
into a church in Rangoon, a parlor meeting- 
place into a church hall, and two workers in- 
creased to six, with some native helpers. This 



12 In the Land of Pagodas 

start was almost wholly among English-speak- 
ing people. But the great Burmese Buddhist 
population held out needy hands. The thou- 
sands of simple-hearted Karen people of the 
hills were open to the gospel truth; and there 
was no school for the children and youth, the 
most susceptible of all heathen to the uplift of 
Christianity. Slowly the pleading need of a 
school became a great burden to the mission- 
aries, and found voice in earnest prayer to God 
to open the way. There was no fund available 
that might be tapped to start new enterprises, 
for the Board was driven to refusing some pleas 
because of the many from the world field. But 
the school of their dreams and prayers did 
materialize in a most providential way, and this 
is its story. 

While laboring in Rangoon, the Votaws 
interested a number of telegraph operators in 
their faith. The government owns the tele- 
graph system in Burma, and employs a large 
number of men in its various stations over the 
country. When one of these operators was in 
the midst of his study of the Bible truths pre- 
sented by the Votaws, he was transferred to, 
Meiktila, in Upper Burma, a civil and military 
center of about seven thousand people, situated 
on the shore of a beautiful lake about three 



Called Over 



13 




A Typical City Street Scene Showing Indian Servants and Children 



14 In the Land of Pagodas 

hundred and twenty miles north of the metropo- 
Us. This man and his wife began to tell their 
neighbors some of the Bible truths they had 
heard in the city. Two of these neighbors were 
advocates (lawyers), one of them being in 
government employ and a man of wide influence 
and excellent reputation. 

The telegraph operator was rather apathetic 
then about the truths he had learned; but his 
listening neighbors were anxious to know more. 
vSo the missionaries in Rangoon were requested 
to visit them and teach them the Bible. The 
answering of this call provided an opportunity 
for the weary workers to procure a change from 
the humid, unheal thful atmosphere of Rangoon 
at that season of the year, to the much dryer 
climate of Meiktila. They were soon on the 
ground, and their visit proved to be memorable. 
The little group were ere long rejoicing in the 
truth that moves men's hearts. A. W. Steevens, 
the government advocate, became an apostle of 
the printed page, scattering at his own expense 
large quantities of gospel literature over the 
whole of the Indian Empire. The telegraph 
operator now fills an important position in 
Indian mission work. 

But, the school. Among the acquaintances 
of Mr. Steevens were prominent Buddhists who 



Called Over i5 

were impressed, as he talked to them of his new 
hope, by the health and educational phases of 
the gospel the missionaries taught. A training 
of the head, hand, and heart appealed to them, 
especially that of the hand. For they saw in 
this the hope of Burma. It is regrettable that 
they did not have a higher motive also, but 
so far this was a step in the right direction. The 
Burmese people are losing favor with the 
foreigner because the Burman as a rule will not 
or can not learn the practical trades of modern 
industry. Many foresighted Burmans of edu- 
cation and culture are seeing the trend, and have 
become alarmed. 

"We want technical schools," they said, 
"where our boys can learn trades. If you see a 
Burman who is skiUed in a practical trade you 
may put it down that he is an ex-convict. A 
native must commit a crime and be sent to jail 
in order to learn a trade, for the jails and re- 
formatories are the only places in the country 
where trades are taught." 

They were so concerned that their boys receive 
this all-round education, which we have been 
more or less successful in carrying into practise 
for so many years in America, that they offered 
to help financially to estabhsh a technical 
school. To make good their offer they banded 



Called Over ly 

together, elected a chairman and a secretary- 
treasurer, and started a subscription paper. 
In a very short time the fund thus raised grew 
to several hundred rupees. (A rupee is about a 
third of an American dollar.) This was an 
unusually bold move, for the Buddhists generally 
are suspicious of Christian missionary proposi- 
tions. Then the missionaries were urged to do 
their part, and to make good the gospel of 
symmetrical education. 

Such an opening could not be ignored. But 
with all the goodwill and help of local enthu- 
siasts, to start such an enterprise would involve 
great expense on the part of the Mission. And 
there was no provision in the budget for a school 
in Burma; and to all appearances there was not 
likely to be for some time. It was a perplexing 
question. There was but one thing to do, — 
appeal to the Board at home for permission to 
advance, and for aid for the promising project. 
The time was on the eve of the General 
Conference of 1909, to be held in Washington, 
D. C. Convinced that a plea for this school and 
also for help to start work among the Karen 
tribes of the country, should be presented in 
person to give it adequate force, our pioneer, 
after overcoming many obstacles that stood in 
the way, took passage for the homeland, and 



i8 In the Land of Pagodas 

unexpectedly appeared to attend the session of 
the Conference. He was given a httle time at the 
close of the report from India to speak for his 
field, and he made the most of the opportunity. 
Beginning with a brief description of the land 
and the people, he grew enthusiastic as he recited 
the encouraging progress of the work, and 
eloquent as he pleaded for a quick supplying of 
Burma's crying needs. One of these needs was 
set forth in a clarion call for an educator. 

"We need a qualified school man," said the 
speaker, "one who has been educated in 'the 
university of hard knocks.' Some of the most 
prominent Buddhists of Upper Burma have 
besought us to start a school for their youth, 
where manual training shall be given. The 
mission schools of other churches are following 
the government curriculum for the sake of 
government grants-in-aid. So much is required 
by the government before this financial help is 
given, that the schools are unable to give any- 
thing like adequate instruction in Christianity. 
The people who are calling for us are willing to 
help to the best of their ability in a financial 
way. They have promised to work in every 
way they can to make the school a success. 
May God impress some strong young man and 
wife to volunteer for this work. 



Called Over ig 

"All Burma is aquiver today, on tiptoe with 
expectancy and anxiety. Since I have seen the 
marvelous manner in which news travels there, 
I am persuaded that the gospel can be quickly 
given. It is a matter of continual wonder to 
us how rapidly events of all sorts become known 
to those illiterate millions. But one thing that I 
have ever seen seems to me to be a fit illustration 
of the swiftness with which the knowledge of 
the happenings of the day is passed from mouth 
to mouth. How distinctly I remember that day 
years ago when with blanched faces the dwellers 
in a little frame house, set far out on the prairie, 
began to labor with eager, feverish haste to 
protect their home from the dreaded prairie 
fire. But the rolling, bounding flames gave little 
time. They were driven by the wind, and what 
was the puny work of man to stop them ! And 
Christ has compared the workings of his Spirit 
to the blowing of the wind. So when the Spirit 
of the Lord of hosts has breathed upon his 
people and the nations, I am sure that the gospel 
will sweep across India and Burma with mighty 
triumph, burning away every barrier which 
Satan has erected to stay its progress. Let us 
be ready against that day." 

The writer of these lines sat within the sound 
of that summons to achievement for God in the 



20 In the Land of Pagodas 

foreign field, — sat all tense with the gripping 
entreaty of it. And his heart had no other 
answer than, "Send me." 

So a few months later found us about to enter 
the gate of "the land of pagodas. " And as we 
strode down the gangplank into the rabble of 
coolies, and trod the historic soil where many a 
missionary hero and heroine lived and worked 
and died, we were exceeding glad for what the 
future held in store. Nothing exceeds the ardor 
of youth in the face of Christian service. 

In the narrative and description which follow 
we record experiences as they came to us. Our 
way led through the port of entry; into direct 
touch with the cosmopolitan crowd with its 
strange dress, customs, and religions; on up 
country to the scene of our labors, deep into the 
intricacies of the languages and mission prob- 
lems; through struggles, sickness, disappoint- 
ments; to overweights of joy in hearts won for 
Christ. We invite the reader to wonder with us 
at the strange and curious, reflect our smiles at 
the amusing, share with us our depression when 
the clouds hung low, and joy in our fruition 
when the tasks were finished. 



CHAPTER II 

THE GATE 

THE giant Irrawaddy washed a hundred 
soils from remote banks, and cast them 
mixed mud at its mouth. In this mud 
men laid the foundations of Rangoon. The 
races which swarm over the city are as varied 
and blended and plastic as the mud on which 
it stands. A city cosmopolitan indeed is this. 
Other cities may have all the other species of 
mankind, but they lack the picturesque Burman, 
for he is a home body. Rangoon has all races, 
to the extent of almost crowding out the sons 
of the soil. The sights and sounds and smells of 
both worlds here mingle in bewildering disorder. 
The gold, silver, precious stones, and silks, 
which in other nations are hoarded and hid, are 
in this nation spread to the gaze of the throng. 
And the greedy, the thrifty, and the industrious 
of all climes flock to the golden show for a part 
in the division of the spoil. The laughing, care- 
free people view with equanimity their glory 
flow into the coffers of strangers, and Burma 



The Gate 2j 

complacently surrenders her wealth-right to 
the passer-by. 

The immigrants land at the port of Rangoon, 
and many of them stick there and cast their lot 
with the common run. They have come to a 
land of opportunity compared with other coun- 
tries of the East. For here are fertile soils, rich 
minerals, and abundance of trade, with no fate- 
ful caste system as in India, no unsettling 
revolutions as in China, no burdensome taxes as 
in Japan. But do not mistake. The country 
is not rich in the real sense. What is here, 
however, is all on the surface, as far as the 
Burman is concerned. He doesn't put his 
wealth in a stocking — no napkined talents for 
him. It goes into his stomach and onto his 
back. But he leads the simple life, and is happy, 
so happy! After all, what do those who hoard 
desire more than this? 

Rangoon is not Burma. First it is India, then 
China, then all the Orient, then Europe and 
America. The Burmese are its ornaments; and 
their towering golden pagoda, the attractive 
feature of many a beautiful vista, represents a 
people and a religion which are fast weakening 
under the influences of the spirit of the West. 

Shall we "see the sights"? The very modern 
electric car on which we ride takes the corner 



24 In the Land of Pagodas 

with a shriek as we turn into Dalhousie Street. 
The stone pavement is just ceasing to throw 
back the sun's glare. It now steams in its 
Turkish bath as the water-carriers muddy its 
back. Our conveyance seems strangely out of 
place among the primitive men and methods. 
Look at the motor-man on our car. He wears a 
semi-European suit of dark green cloth, of the 
pea-jacket, high-water variety, bounded below 
by bare feet and above by long oily hair, roughly 
done up, turnip shape, under a little red fez. 
The man who collects fares is, like the other, a 
native of India, and is dressed identically the 
same. He is just learning to count money, and 
may shortchange us; but never mind, the 
passengers are only too willing to help him. 
The car company should not lose by his ignor- 
ance, for at his elbow is a subinspector ; and 
soon an inspector will cast his critical eye on 
him and us, and in turn will cower before the 
chief inspector. These inspectors ride at inter- 
vals on all cars, and watch with eagle eyes. 
Our tickets are punched and punched and 
punched. While we are trying to recall some 
lines about "other fleas to bite 'em," the gong 
clangs loudly, and we peer ahead to see three 
stalwart coolies making frantic but slow efforts 
to tug their high- wheeled, heavily loaded cart 



The Gate 25 

off the track. A line of shoulder-pole carriers 
string by with their labored swing, taking rice 
from the wharf to the warehouse, where the 
sign, "All kinds, good rice, cheaply, for sale," 
does its duty in attracting the attention of the 
English-speaking public. 

Farther on, the wide street presents an un- 
broken mass of conglomerate humanity. Bur- 
mese women gossip at the house doors, while 
their children dodge among the crowds afoot. 
Chinese workman, plying any and every trade, 
sit cross-legged on the sidewalk or at their 
shop fronts. The curb is lined with various 
business contrivances dignified by the name of 
shop, from a little basket at a corner, with a 
woman squatting behind it, to the Chinese 
restaurant-keeper, with his long table, furnace, 
cooks, and waiters, serving eatables by wholesale. 

Beyond the curb, confusion inextricable — 
cars, bicycles, motors, carts, carriages, rick- 
shaws, and luckless pedestrians — where a colli- 
sion means a fight and a miss is good for a 
smile. In the center, at cross streets, towers a 
turbaned Punjabi policeman — supposed to pre- 
serve order. His huge stature and dignified 
demeanor give him immunity from danger; and 
there he poses, well-nigh oblivious to all that 
chatters and clatters past. 



26 



In the Land of Pagodas 




Bamboo Scaffolding to Give the Big Pagoda a New Coat of Gold Leaf 



The Gate 27 

The evening is the joy- time of the day, and 
each one takes his "constitutional" as suits him 
best. But what a multitude there is! One 
writer has called them "food for census," and 
that idea presses in upon us in spite of our 
efforts at singling out a few. They are lumped 
off in the mass, like so many clods of earth,- — 
different, but who cares? Yet each one has an 
individuality — and a soul. 

This is where the "other half lives"; it would 
require volumes to tell how they live. Even 
those who have been long on the ground some- 
times wonder whether they know the people or 
not. In the turmoil of the seething millions of 
the East, one sees the crowd, but it is difficult 
to see one. At every dwelling it seems as if 
all the folk are at home, and relatives and 
friends are visiting them. 

We alight and meander through the "night 
bazaar. ' ' Scores of temporary stalls pack the 
curb of the wide sidewalks, and the night is 
aglare with gaudy lights. Here is great assort- 
ment, from pins and peanuts to beds and 
blankets. This fellow with the file-rasping 
voice makes our .passing hideous with "Ek 
rupaya kamal, chay paisa, chay paisa, chay 
paisa!" ("A thing worth 32 cents for three 
cents", a tricky appeal to the gambling in- 



28 . In the Land of Pagodas 

stinct of the Burman) . This is the time and the 
place to palm off the defective and tinseled 
articles whose defects are unnoticed, and whose 
tinsel shows golden in the glaring light. We 
know this, yet we are drawn on by a lure in- 
explainable to see what is not worth seeing, and 
to buy what we do not want. A week ago we 
asked at one stall for a towel, and — it must 
have been published in a newspaper which all 
read, with our likenesses attached — now towels 
are thrust at us at every turn all along the line. 
Towels call us, towels spread before us, towels 
flap in our faces, towels shout after us. But 
there is method is this. For we buy, and why? 
— to distract attention, or to satisfy onlookers 
that we use such articles, or to show that we 
have the money? It may be for any of these 
reasons more than because we really need the 
towel. With half disgust we turn away, and 
wish not to look at a towel for a week. Yet 
we are not to be let off, for soap and brushes 
must needs go with a towel, and these are 
urged at below-cost prices. We are led to believe 
that the motto of these men must be, "Per- 
sistency, thou art a jewel." There is an end, 
however; and at last we extricate ourselves, 
and the gloom envelops us as we start for 
home. 



The Gate 2Q 

The morning draws us to the bazaar for the 
day's food supply. Most of the shop-men are 
Indians, not Burmans; and of the few Burmans 
nearly all are women. A dozen boy coolies, with 
baskets, surround us away up the street. We 
select one lank fellow with a smile, a good 
knowledge of prices, and a poor knowledge of 
English. A friend had an amusing experience 
with one of these "basket wallahs." They 
often use English in the idiom of their own 
language. With them there is no difference in 
the way they say " too much ' ' and " very much. ' ' 
This boy said that what the sahih was buying 
was "too nice." My friend told him that 
"too nice" means nicer than it should be, and 
that it really couldn't be "too nice." "Well," 
returned the boy, "One nice, then." 

Did you ever bargain? I mean, juggle prices 
with a merchant. If you haven't, you have 
missed — shall I say a joy? There are few one- 
price dealers here. A native's asking price is 
not his selling price; and usually the latter is 
one-fourth or one- third of the former. It is a 
habit that many of them would gladly break 
away from; but, like the tipping habit, 
it sticks. Says the shopkeeper: "What can 
do, sir? Master asking price, sir. If I say 
proper price, sir. Master no buy. Master ex- 



JO In the Land of Pagodas 

pects less, sir. If no sell for less, sir, no can 
sell, sir. " 

To beat a man down in his price is always 
a necessity, and never a hardship for the man; 
for, unless the buyer knows the right price, the 
crafty merchant is sure to get more than the 
article is worth. And if you do not know the 
price, he is a sharp enough student of human 
nature to find it out, in spite of evasive ques- 
tions and answers. Every purchase involves a 
battle of wits. At first the newcomer finds 
it difficult, but later it changes to a pleasurable 
habit which holds such a fascination that one 
actually wonders if ever he can feel satisfied 
to buy from a merchant who will not lower 
his price. But before the trick is learned, the 
novice has many a crestfallen experience of 
seeming to triumph at a low figure, and later 
finding he has paid two prices for his purchase. 

This is the usual haggle: — • 

"What's the price of these guavas?" 

"Ten for six annas, sahib." 

"What? Say, if I wanted to get rich, I'd 
start a shop here and rob people as you do. 
Tell the proper price. I'll give you two annas. " 

"Nay, sahib, nay," laughing, "Five annas 
proper price." 

"Will you take two annas?" 



The Gate 



31 







A View Among the Royal Lakes, with Shwe Dagon in the Distance 



J2 In the Land of Pagodas 

"Nay, sahib, cost four annas." 

"No, they don't; you know you can buy them 
for one anna." 

You start away, and he says, "Four annas, 
sahib, and no profit." You continue, and he 
shouts for you to come back at four annas. 
You call that you will give three annas. He 
refuses, but when you are out of sight and hear- 
ing he sends a boy running ^fter you to accept 
your three annas. Of course you return and pay 
the three annas, and perhaps are discomfited to 
see him chuckle at the prospect of a good profit. 
But if you win there is a fascination about it, 
because it brings a consciousness of superiority. 

The bazaar is huge, and offers for sale almost 
every article which the East and West produce. 
Prices range widely, from trivial eatables which 
are almost as cheap as the handful of earth 
from which they grew, to fancy tinned and 
bottled imported stuffs. We hold our noses 
while passing through the meat and fish depart- 
ments, sneeze in the spice-room, and are prodigal 
with our eyes among the silks. All this is 
sordid, but it is Rangoon. 

Another day we break away and breathe free 
at the Royal Lakes Park. This beautiful re- 
treat provides the lungs of the city. In the 
rainy season the gentle slopes are a lavish 



The Gate 33 

green, but the dry se^^son sees hosts of coohes 
deluging them in a vain effort to coax the 
dying year into a "green old age." The roads 
hum to the tune of the motor-car, and happy 
picnicing children sport in the groves. The 
golden crown of the view is the towering sharp- 
ness of the Shwe Dagon Pagoda, its sleek 
descent throwing back a dazzling glitter to the 
tropic sun. 

Rangoon contains only a quarter-million peo- 
ple, but all these are in evidence. The English 
rulers, comfortably parked in their own section, 
sway the fortunes of Burma's metropolis with 
beneficent justice. The strongest and lowest 
passions of thousands of debased human beings 
here find vent ; but storms are brief, and Oriental 
lethargy binds all minds in a magical spell, 
whose power Occidental minds sense, but will 
always stop short of experiencing. 



J4 ^^^ ^^^^ Land of Pagodas 






One of the Ways up the HiU to the Pagoda 



Chapter III 
THE WAY IN 

THE way into Burma is among the pagodas ; 
and the way into the heart and mind of 
a Burman is through an understanding of 
the point of view of the rehgion of the pagodas, 
— Buddhism. A tarrying in Rangoon means a 
visit to the great pagoda that overtops the city 
and appears in the distance of every beautiful 
view which the port affords. The first sight of 
it from far down the river is a more than suffi- 
cient stimulus to closer investigation. 

We started for the noted shrine armed 
with a wealth of curiosity to learn all we could 
about Buddhism in general and pagodas in 
particular — and we returned satisfied. A friendly 
Burmese guide to accompany us, and a willing- 
ness on the part of the caretakers of the place 
to impart information, supplied an answer to 
every question that arose. We shall take oc- 
casion to introduce our readers to the heart of 
Buddhism as we proceed. 

Alighting from a car at the foot of the steep- 

35 



j6 In the Land of Pagodas 

sloping artificial hill, we were at once awed by 
two gigantic images of lion-like animals with 
gaping mouths, which sat on their haunches on 
either side of the stairway. But some Burmese 
boys playing gleefully on the toes of the huge 
beasts tended to reassure us. Like Bunyan's 
pilgrim, we were soon past the lions in the way, 
and climbing the broad stone steps, hallowed — 
yes, and hollowed — by the patter of many de- 
voted feet. 

The ascent is tiresome, but not without di- 
version. We may buy candles, flowers, toys, 
gold leaf, and trinkets of all sorts at the booths 
that flank the upper steps; or we may rest on 
some crude seats and look out over the city; 
but we hasten on to the top, for there is much 
to see, and tell. 

The last step upward discovers a level plateau 
about the size of a city block, with the tall 
Shwe Dagon in its center. Around the base of 
the immense tower is a paved circle, somewhat 
irregular, and hemming this in on all sides are 
structures of every conceivable shape and na- 
ture, — scores of little pagodas, roofed-over 
shrines, images in barred cages, rest houses, 
flower and trinket shops, bells, platforms, poles, 
pillars, glass cases with relics, decorations in 
endless variety — all in the utmost disorder as to 



The Wav In 



37 




Anions lli< 
Myunlains 
i>r ISiirnia 



Pagodas 
Built on 
Famous 
Balanced 
Rooks — 



,** 



^'-"^,1 




j8 In the Land of Pagodas 

arrangement. It looks as if every particular 
ornament had been erected by a separate person 
and each had placed his where it suited him 
best. The meaning of all these will become 
more evident as we delve into the mysteries of 
the religion. 

Now a pagoda is a pile of rice with a lotus 
bud stuck in the peak of it. 

At least it is said that is how the idea of its 
form originated. Whatever its fashion in other 
Buddhist lands, this is its characteristic contour 
in the land of pagodas. It is round, large at the 
base and small at the top, ending in a point. 
The sides curve inward and are not smooth, but 
rise in irregular swells, or "collars." And just 
below the top is a bulge, the lotus-bud effect. 
At the very apex a htee (umbrella) is fixed, which 
has the shape of an ordinary parasol one-fourth 
open, and is usually made of metal plated with 
gilt or gold. The edges of the htee have dangling 
from them little bells or pieces of metal and 
glass, and these tinkle musically in the pass- 
ing breeze. 

But what is a pagoda, and what is it for? 
It isn't a church or a temple, for it is solid 
throughout, and thus there is no going into it. 
It isn't a tomb, like the pyramids of Egypt, for 
no one is buried under it. It isn't a monument 



The Way In jg 

to commemorate some event, although some 
famous pagodas hark back to some legendary 
event for the purpose of their founding. Nor 
are the pagodas, except in very rare cases, built 
in memory of a man, although individual men 
and families often erect them. They are not 
limited to number, for hundreds of thousands of 
them encumber the land; nor to place, for they 
obtrude into every vista and are found every- 
where, from the shelf behind the door or in a 
man's pocket to the top of the highest hill and 
on well-nigh inaccessible rocks in the mountains ; 
nor to size, for they vary from watchcharms to 
the gigantic Shwe Dagon, reaching 370 feet 
above its platform of 166 feet. 

A pagoda is a shrine, erected originally over 
sacred relics, such as a hair or a tooth of Gautama 
the Good (Buddha) of far renown ; or it may be 
built over images or books inclosed in a chamber 
in the center of the foundation. As there are 
not enough relics to supply the large number of 
pagodas built, imitations of real relics are put 
in. Every village has at least one pagoda, and 
in many villages there is a group of them, in 
all stages of decay. This is the sacred center, 
and here the faithful assemble for the various 
religious duties. The word pagoda is not used 
by the Burmans, for the people call the struc- 
ture paya\^{\ord) . 



40 



In the Land of Pagodas 





Pagodas Everywhere 



tfc\ 





Each of these unique shrines was built by some 
man or group of men to get merit. It is the 
most meritorious act that can possibly be per- 



The Way In 41 

formed, and insures the builder at his death an 
immediate entrance into the highest form of 
heavenly rest. Hence the large number of 
pagodas. The merit is granted according to 
the goodness of the one to whom the pagoda 
is dedicated, and not according to the character 
of the builder. So rich men who can build big 
get the m'ost merit, regardless of their char- 
acters. No merit accrues to anyone who 
repairs a pagoda, except those of great note, 
repair-merit going to the original builder. Con- 
sequently there is little repairing done, thou- 
sands of the structures are in ruins, and new 
ones are being built all the time. They cumber 
the ground in the crowded land; and sometimes 
when no one is looking a sacreligious farmer 
does not hesitate to topple a small one over and 
put the ground into crops. The material of 
their building is flat bricks and mortar. The 
whole is plastered on the outside and covered 
with whitewash or gold leaf, according to the 
affluence of the giver. However, since but few 
ruins are ever removed, besides being a land of 
pagodas, Burma is a land of brush-covered 
brick piles. 

Perhaps even more numerous, but less con- 
spicuous, than the pagodas are the myriad 
images of Buddha seen everywhere throughout 



42 



In the Land of Pagodas 



the country. The manufacture of these idols is 
a recognized craft, and excellent indeed is the 
workmanship displayed on many of them. 
Sculptured in alabaster and marble, or moulded 
in shining brass, they are things of beauty com- 
pared with the hideous gods of Hinduism. 

You may have a Buddha of pocket-size at a pit- 
tance of a price ; or may make a pilgrimage to a 
famous shrine and gaze with awe at an enormous 




|tf ■«^|i-cQ^ci>of1 Orick Piles 



likeness of Gautama the Good towering many 
feet into the air. Clustered about the feet of 
pagodas, housed under little roofs at the road- 
side, and perched in the recesses of the hills, — 
from every corner images of the famous hero of 



The Way In 4j 

righteousness look out upon the world with 
serene apathy. 

The image-maker may not try his skill in 
varying the form and features of his product. 
Every Buddha looks just as nearly like all the 
others as expert imitators can make it. The 
figure sits tailor fashion, with the sole of one 
foot turned upward. The long-fingered hands 
rest quietly on the lap. The body is draped in 
a plain priestly robe with a sort of turban for 
a head covering. The lobes of the ears reach 
to the shoulders. 

There are a few noted exceptions to the 
conventional seated image, the most widely 
known being the standing Buddhas of Pagan 
and the huge reclining Buddha of Pegu. The 
latter dates from ancient times, and for many 
years it seems to have been lost even to the 
Burmans themselves, big as it is. It was found 
accidentally while engineers were prospecting for 
a railroad. The undergrowth covering it was 
removed, and now it can be seen from the train 
as it sleepily smiles on the passer-by. It is 
known as the dying Buddha, and is said to be 
the largest statue of a human being in the 
world, measuring i8o feet long and 46 feet 
high at the shoulders. Several persons might 
comfortably sleep on its ear lobes. 



44 



In the Land of Pagodas 



A Typical 
Large Image 
of the 
Buddha 




Sculpturing 
Buddhas 
from 
Stone 



The Way In 45 

The faces of these Buddhas naturally draw 
attention. Plainly Mongolian in form, the 
features are pasty and expressionless. Yet 
there is a beatific, half -serious, half-smirky smile 
that rests about the mouth which impresses 
the stranger that the original was very con- 
scious of a passive, meditative goodness within. 
There is nothing that is repulsive about the 
whole figure, a little that is admirable, and 
much that is weak. It is meant to show the 
saint in deep contemplation of great good. 

Such was the posture and benign look of the 
divinely-human Gautama, according to tra- 
dition ; and in imitation of his serenity his fol- 
lowers today longingly seek the greatest peace 
of heart possible to mankind. Is it any wonder 
that his constant worshipers grow to look like 
him, and that the peaceful Burmese face is a 
picture of the hero of Burma's religion? 

Burmese people dearly love bells, and no 
religious center is without them. They tinkle 
and ring and boom as wind or worshiper supply 
them power. They range in size from the tiny 
silver ones on the fringes of the pagoda htees 
to the enormous Mengon bell, second in size 
in the world and the largest suspended bell 
known. 

The bells of Burma are not cast in such 



46 In the Land of Pagodas 

beautiful curves as the ones the Westerner 
makes, but they send forth sweet tones. The big 
ones are not set high in towers, nor do they have 
clappers dangling from their centers. They are 
suspended within reach of all, and a mallet is 
usually provided for the tapping. All bells are 
consecrated to religion, and are used for no 
other purpose. 

Surely it must be that the devotees of Guatama 
need to be called often and insistently to wor- 
ship, seeing that there are so many bells. But 
not so; for the Buddhist must come to his wor- 
ship, if he comes at all, without being called. 
He knows his duty and after he has said his 
prayer and given his offering he proceeds to 
tap the bells to call the attention of the good 
spirits to what he has done. We visitors often 
took a hand in hammering on the bells, for the 
more they are rung the better, no matter who 
does the tapping. However, in the case of the 
largest ones a curious investigator concludes 
that a steam hammer would be required to bring 
a sound from them, — especially the famous one 
at Mengon. 

Buddhism is kept alive by the pongyis, or 
priests, and the foreigner in Burma is impressed 
that there are enough of them. Pongyis are the 
members of a religious order who have given 



The Way In 



47 




The Fainous Dying Buddha of Pegu 



themselves as followers of the lord Buddha in 
seeking a perfect life. In the large cities they 



^8 In the Land of Pagodas 

number into the thousands, and even the 
smallest village has its collection of yellow- 
robed, shaven-headed figures living on the hospi- 
tality of the people. Their dull dress represents 
the rags of poverty and the individual pongyi 
can possess nothing, not even the smallest coin, 
though his order may be increased with goods. 

The pongyis are not ministers in any sense. 
It is not at all their business to help others, 
either bodily or spiritually. Cutting them- 
selves off from the world by poverty, celibacy, 
and idleness, they spend their time concentrat- 
ing their minds on supreme righteousness. They 
confer a great favor on the mourners by attend- 
ing a funeral, and they give opportunity to all to 
gain special merit in religion as they go about 
from door to door with their begging bowls and 
allow the people to put food therein. Does the 
foreigner say they beg? They no more beg 
than a bank president begs who saves your 
money for you. 

There is much good to be seen in the pongyis, 
for they are in the main pure, and hold strictly 
to their vows. They inculcate charity and 
hospitality in the people, and maintain a com- 
mendable peace of mind in an otherwise heed- 
less and headlong generation. 

Be it known that all Buddhist males are at 



\ 

\ 



The Way In 4g 

some time consecrated to the priesthood, but 
most of them do not go on to become pongyis in 
reahty. Those who continue in the sacred work 
are too hkely to be of the lazy sort who prefer 
idleness to an active life. Yet they make some 
remarkable sacrifices. They live in monasteries 
called kyaungs situated near the pagoda centers 
and apart from the dwellings of the common 
people. These monasteries are the most elabo- 
rate and costly buildings in the community ; but 
withal the pongyi lives the simple life. 

Cleared of vague philosophies and disputed 
points here is the story of Buddhism: 

Many centuries ago a young prince in India, 
named Gautama, became suddenly aware that 
this world is full of death, disease, and suffering. 
He had been shielded by his parents from viewing 
anything that would cause him pain of heart, 
until he was a young man. Then on a ride 
through the country he saw human sufferings as 
only India can show it. Thereupon he left his 
home and riches and started out to find a cure 
for the troubles of existance. After years of 
solitary meditation he is said to have found the 
secret of life and the one method of gaining 
supreme happiness. He took the title of Buddha 
(lord) and went forth gathering disciples and 
teaching his belief. Being purer than Hinduism, 



50 hi the Land of Pagodas 

Buddhism spread throughout India and gained 
minions of adherents. But later it was driven 
out of the Indian peninsula, seeming better 
suited to the Mongolian peoples to the east and 
north. Now it flourishes in Burma, Siam, 
China, and Japan. 

Gautama did not claim, nor is it claimed for 
him, that he is or was a god. He simply found 
the way for human beings to reach peace of soul 
and reached it himself. Buddhists claim that 
he is not worshiped as a god, and although there 
are millions of images of him, and people wor- 
ship before them, it is said that this is no more 
idolatry than is our worshiping in the presence 
of the picture of Christ on our church walls 
or windows. 

Everyone naturally wants to know what 
Gautama's secret of life and happiness is. In 
short, it may be expressed thus: Peace and 
happiness are found in long-continued and 
intense contemplation of good. That is, if you 
would be happy, go apart from other men and 
do nothing but think about and desire righteous- 
ness till you become righteous. The Christian 
knows that the world has tried this plan many 
times in its history, and has found it wanting. 

Gautama taught that all living things are on a 
series of steps, the highest forms above and the 



i 



The Way In 

liili^^'^'liil^l 



51 



inn 




A Group of the Priestly Class, Showing Three Stages in the 
Development of its Members 

lowest, below. Every human being is born 
somewhere on this ladder of existence. In- 
separably connected with existence is pain. 



52 hi the Land of Pagodas 

The lower orders suffer most, the higher orders 
least, and the only way to be free from pain is to 
cease to exist, that is, to keep on ascending the 
ladder till the top is reached. The state into 
which one enters at the top of the ladder is 
called Neikban. Yet the Buddhist says that 
this ceasing to exist is not annihilation. In fact, 
it is difficult for anyone to explain just what it is. 
This is the way one writer describes it: 

"He falls into a calm and never-ending cessa- 
tion of existence. He knows nothing of others, 
nor of the world, and so is a stranger to all 
feelings of joy and sorrow. He contemplates 
fixedly the abstract truth. He remains per- 
petually in a sacred calm, unmoved by any 
feeling whatever, in lifeless, timeless bliss." 
This is the Buddhist's ideal of heaven, but to 
the Christian it does not appeal as being de- 
sirable. 

The lower steps of existence are terrible hells 
in which men suffer the most awful tortures. 
The teaching is that everyone has many lives, 
and at the end of each life they are immediately 
born into a lower or higher order of existence, 
according as they are bad or good. This trans- 
migration of souls is a strong belief. Burmese 
nursery tales and schoolbook stories are many 
of them based on the idea. One such reads 
somewhat like this : 



The Way In 5J 

Once upon a time a school master was out 
walking with his pupils, and they came to where 
a herd of goats was feeding. There was one goat 
that seemed to be the leader of the herd; and 
the boys asked their master if they might stone 
this goat to death. He consented; but as the 
boys ran for stones, he was surprised to see that 
the goat was laughing. He asked the goat the 
cause of his laughter, and the goat said, "Long 
ago I was a school master, and was one day 
out walking with my pupils. We met a herd 
of goats, of which one goat seemed to be the 
leader. The boys asked if they might stone the 
goat and I consented. They killed the animal, 
and for the sin of taking its life I was condemned 
to live ninety -nine goat-lives. I am in my 
ninety-ninth life now, and as soon as the boys 
stone me to death I will take your place and you 
will take mine." Needless to say, the boys 
did not stone the goat. 

The way up the ladder of existence is won by 
meritorious acts, the requirements of which are 
plainly laid down in the Buddhist law. They 
correspond in some degree to our ten command- 
ments; and the followers of Jesus see much in 
the precepts of Gautama to commend. Also, 
the Burmese generally are to be admired for 
the way they live some of the truths of their 



54 ^^^ the Land of Pagodas 

belief. Their hospitality is unbounded. Along 
the hot and dusty roads are often seen little 
stands containing earthen vessels which pro- 
vide the "cup of cold water" for the thirsty 
wayfarer. In the villages, at the shrines, and 
at frequent intervals over the country, are 
built little rest houses, the hotels of the natives, 
where a traveler may take possession free of 
charge, and be assured a shelter during his 
stay. This is practical religion, whatever the 
motive of the donor may be. 

However, the acts of merit work out too often 
in long prayers, formal ceremonies, and deeds 
which have nothing to do with the character 
within. Prayers are said, not prayed, — and 
nearly always not understood, for they are in a 
sacred language unknown to the people. 

Although the Burmese are firm Buddhists, 
yet there is a vivid trace of the old devil-, or 
spirit-, worship in all their religious beliefs 
and everyday acts. Spirits, called nats, are 
everywhere, especially evil ones ; and they must 
be avoided or appeased. A haunting fear comes 
with the darkness, and the lonely night traveler 
yells or whistles — and often runs — for evil stalks 
abroad in the night. 

Maung Myit, our Burmese servant for some 
time, was a middle-aged man and strongly 



The Way In 55 

courageous; but he feared the spirits. He Hved 
in a village half a mile away on the next hill, 
and went home every night rather than sleep 
alone in the little house we provided for him. 
He was always unusually industrious about his 
work at the close of the day, in order to get' 
home before dark. But sometimes it was 
necessary for him to stay till the shades of 
night were deep. Then, when he was ready to 
go, he procured a stick from the woodpile, and 
wrapped a cloth soaked in oil around the end 
of it. Laying this on the floor by the back door, 
with matches ready for lighting by its side, 
he stood and clapped his hands loudly to scare 
the spirits off so that he could get a good start. 
Then he quickly lighted the cloth, waved the 
brand frantically over his head, and tore down 
the road at top speed. We would stand and 
watch ,the torch as it was borne on with un- 
diminished vigor till it disappeared behind the 
bushes at the village gate. And we could 
testify that no fire-scared spirits would molest 
Maung My it. 

The Christian observer is impressed with the 
inadequacy of the Buddhist religion to give 
soul satisfaction. It has a passively good, 
witching lure about it that appeals strongly to 
the easy-going dweller in a tropic clime. In 



56 hi the Land of Pagodas 

precept excellent, and ranking second to Chris- 
tianity in the high standard of its moral require- 
ments, it has a purifying effect on the baser 
forms of Oriental religion. But its precepts are 
nowhere near being carried out. And right 
there lies its inadequacy; for Buddhism is 
without a saviour from sin. Relying on its 
eternal reward for its chief hold on its devotees, 
and that reward nothing, or worse than nothing 
— a ceasing from individuality and existence— 
what else could be the result but a life-long 
desire never satisfied? After all, the chief 
difference between the religion of Christ and all 
other religions is the one fact that Jesus saves. 



CHAPTER IV 

STRANGERS WITHIN 

NEARLY every community is undergoing a 
change in these days. Either by stormy 
revolution or by quiet growth, modern 
ideas are seizing the pubhc mind. The seven- 
wonder achievements of our time are inspiring 
new Hfe in the minds of the peoples of the 
Orient especially ; and Burma is not without her 
progressives. The new Burma seems destined 
to be revivified from without, with the Chinese 
and the Indian as the chief agents of the change. 
The European can not move the stolid East; 
but it will move itself, in time. Like her women, 
Burma will mother any one; and she seems in a 
fair way to renew her thinning blood by quiet 
assimilation of the best and the worst in the 
alien. 

In situation, Rangoon is a part of Burma. 
In inhabitants, Burma is only a part of it. 
It is first India, for we meet the Indian on the 
way; and he fills the vision when one first lands 
at the port. The Indians are not the most 

57 



SS In the Land of Pagodas 

: '""" :\ - ' 

\ 

\ 




Indian Coolies Unloading Rice from Up Country 

influential in changing Burma, but they are the 
most numerous of all foreigners ; ' and sheer 
numbers have an effect. Some would affirm 
that they are a dead weight, but it would be 



Strangers Within 5P 

better to say that they are a check to progress 
overswift; for the Burman is spasmodic, and 
the Chinese is proving himself very wide awake. 

The Bnghsh follow the very just policy of 
giving first chance in governmental aid and 
favors to the original owners of the country 
over which they rule. All are treated fairly, 
but Burma is governed primarily for the Bur- 
mese. Yet in spite of this advantage, which is 
not inconsiderable, the Burmese are fast losing 
hold of the country financially, not to the 
English, but to the Indian and the Chinese. 
The household servants, the shopkeepers, the 
money lenders, the police and soldiers, are 
largely Indians, not alone in Rangoon, but all 
over Burma. And they have entered to some 
extent into all other occupations. In the course 
of their work these classes handle large sums of 
money, and their natural bent is not to spend 
it. It is hoarded or sent to India, whither they 
themselves very generally return when they 
have amassed what to them is a fortune, or 
when they become superannuated. 

Every year at the time of the rice harvest 
the ships from Madras and Calcutta are over- 
loaded with thousands of coolies coming over 
to reap Burma's chief source of wealth. They 
spread all over the great flat lands of the Irra- 



6o In the Land of Pagodas 

waddy delta, living in beast fashion, slaving all 
day under a hot sun as they gather the grain 
almost stalk by stalk. The end of the ingather- 
ing sees them herded back to India, each with 
his wage-pile, in the aggregate a vast sum 
which might just as well be left in the country 
of its production. There are enough Burmans 
to wield the sickle, but the majority have the 
habits of a king, with the purse of a pauper. 

In order to pay off his coolies, the Burmese 
farmer must dispose of a large part of his crop. 
He is unduly delayed in shipping his paddy 
(unhulled rice) to the mill because the Indian 
railway station master (Indian because reliable 
Burmans are scarce) will not provide a car unless 
he is given a "present." By the time the 
farmer's returns are all in, he usually has not 
sufficient rice or money remaining to keep his 
family till the next harvest. So he mortgages 
his future crop for food and seed. The chetty 
(Indian money lender) is at his elbow, willing 
to make a loan at exorbitant interest. And 
thus it goes on from year to year. The average 
agriculturist is ever behind. He works hard, 
too, but not "according to knowledge." 

These chetties are an abomination. Their 
shining bodies, half -naked, are partly covered 
with thin, spotlessly white cloth, and their fore- 



Strangers Within 



6i 



heads and chests are decorated with white 
marks. They are the leeches of the country, 
clean as snakes are clean. Woe to the man who 




Rice Piled High, Burma's Chief Source of Wealth 



62 In the Land of Pagodas 

falls into their money-itching hands. Ten per 
cent a month is their not-uncommon interest 
demand. In a word, these chalk and cheese- 
cloth artists of lucre are — - 

At times of plenty, underrated; 
At stringent times, appreciated; 
At every time, most soundly hated. 

Their skill, accurate accounting; their music, 
the clink of coin; their art treasures, govern- 
ment stamps; they are wrapped in greed and 
clothed in avarice. 

The Burman does not fancy making a statue 
of himself, nor accommodating his stride to 
that of a hundred others. The discipline of 
army life is irksome to him. So the thousands 
cf police and soldiers for this land are picked 
from the giants of the Punjab and from the 
fiery little Gurkhas of the Himalaya foot-hills. 
Also there may be political policy in policing 
one country with the people of another, at least 
in India and Burma. 

The Indian has been pulled, or has thrust 
himself, into every matter pertaining to the 
well-being and progress of this cosmopolitan 
country; and while slow and very often un- 
skilled, he can usually be depended upon. 
He " camps down alongside ' ' and sticks. Having 



Strangers Within 



6- 



crossed the big water of Bengal Bay to get 
here, he beheves he has lost his caste thereby. 
Of course many of his ways and tastes which 
grew from caste distinctions are not dropped; 
but class hatred is not odious in Burma. 
Many Indians marry Burmese women. There 

are more Indian men 
than women, as is usual 
in a country of immigra- 
tion. Also there are 
many more Burmese 
women than men. 
Cases of Burmese men 
marrying women of 
another nation are al- 
most unknown; but ap- 
pearances lead us to be- 
lieve that the Burmese 
women will marry any 
one. As a consequence, 
there is a rising genera- 
tion of Indo-Burmese. 
The Caucasian of the Indian and the Mongolian 
of the Burman do not make the best blending, 
in the judgment of Westerners. But this new 
race mixture is destined to have much to do 
with the shaping of the future of the "land of 
laughing women. ''' 




Burma is Policed with Giants from 
the Punjab 



64 In the Land of Pagodas 

The Indian, silent, solitary; 
The Burman, laughing, ever merry. 
The Indian, slow and plodding worker; 
The Burman, shirker or a jerker. 
The Indian, dressed in white, or duller; 
The Burman, draped in brilliant color. 
The Indian takes the world as serious; 
The Burman, as a joy delirious. 

John Chinaman takes off his queue to prog- 
ress, and we take off our hats to John China- 
man. (Who of those who know him will ques- 
tion the appropriateness of this given name? 
What John suggests to the average English 
reader's mind, that's the Chinaman.) Views 
of Burma are incomplete without giving our 
friends of the Middle Kingdom (beg pardon. 
Republic) a prominent place. In America we 
do not see the Chinaman at his best. It may 
be he is not so seen in China. Be that as it 
may, in Burma he is seen at the best the writer 
has had the privilege of seeing him. 

The American is jerky and hilarious compared 
with the Chinaman, who is steady and serious. 
He simply leans against what the Westerner 
pushes, but he is always leaning. No obstacle 
can long withstand that constancy of labor 
and that taking of everything to heart. The 
Chinaman has a destiny. I fully believe that 



Strangers Within 65 

we can not in a lifetime learn to understand his 
processes of mind. And that is not to say he 
is inferior. He is different. 

The Chinese associated with Burmese don't 
fight. They fit. And that, too, like my carpen- 
ter's best dove-tail joint. Usually the weakenss 
of the one is evened by the strength of the 
other. Their ancestry, religion, and traditions 
are much the same. Their intermingling pro- 
duces an excellent combination. It has been our 
observation that the children of the mixed 
marriages are fortunate in possessing many of 
the virtues of both parents. They work and 
save with the father, laugh and dress with the 
mother. Burma is stretching social hands to- 
ward the populous nation to the north ; though in 
government she is tied to the West. The 
Burmese character, at least, is destined to be 
greatly modified by contact with the surround- 
ing peoples. This light-hearted folk have many 
admirable traits, but they are not of the kinds 
which survive in our practical, workaday age. 
Considering every thing, a blending of the 
strong characteristics of both nations by race 
union will be the best boon which either can 
bestow on future Mongolian generations. 

Generally speaking, a Chinaman works hard 
and long, saves his money, attains skill in a 
3 



66 In the Land of Pagodas 

practical trade, and is strictly honest. The 
Burman, still generally speaking, lacks all these 
virtues; that is, they do not seem to be strongly 
inherent. If he has them, they have been put 
on by supreme effort. But the Burman is 
happy, good-tempered, lovable, and has excellent 
taste in the fine arts, all of which the Chinaman 
must seek. Both like to rule, and are not very 
amenable to discipline. Both are inveterate 
gamblers. Let it be understood that we are 
speaking of these traits as general tendencies of 
the majority. Ever}^ people exhibits all degrees 
of desirable and undesirable features. 

With slow but sure energy, the Chinaman is 
"at it" early and late. He has come to Burma 
with his "hand in," and has proceeded to build 
a reputation. In Burma the skilled carpenters, 
cabinet-makers, leather- workers, metal-workers, 
and contractors are ver}^ largely Chinese. Also 
large numbers are employed as bank clerks and 
accountants. John's m.ethodical ways make him 
especially valuable as a director and executor of 
large public works ; and while he is not generally 
found to be a civil engineer by education, and 
can not take the place of one, he already knows, 
or is fast learning, the best ways of doing things. 

"Have a look" with me at our Chinese wood- 
working teacher at the school. We wonder 



Strmigers Within 



67 



that he can turn out a chair equal to the best 
in the West, and yet seem to have so few of what 
we consider facihties at his hand. Though 
seemingly crude, his methods are scientific and 
up to date in "conservation of natural energy. " 
He is in the business "on all fours"; for his 
normal capacity is almost doubled by the use 

of his toes as a stand- 
ard, or vice. Such a tool 
has the advantage of not 
encumbering his tool- 
box. His work-bench is 
eight feet long, ten 
inches wide, two feet 
high at one end and one 
and one-half feet high at 
the other, thus being 
strictly a bench and not 
a table. He sits on it. 
By means of numerous 
pegs and wedges used in 
conjunction with square 
holes in the bench-top 
he manages to duplicate 
processes which would seem to require more 
complicated appliances. Instead of being one- 
sided and awkward as he planes, he sits 
astride his work (is literally "on the job"). 




Hong Lee, Our First Chinese 
Carpenter 



68 hi the Larui of Pagodas • 

and gives it the benefit of a straight- arm push. 

No, he does not do everything backward 
— very httle, in fact, that I have seen. With 
two pieces of iron shaped by the local black- 
smith, two wooden uprights, a bamboo pole, 
and a piece of rope, he sets up a one-foot-power 
lathe which is a marvel of simplicity and effec- 
tiveness. And again, no tool besides power-run 
machinery can bore a hole so quickly as does his 
string-and-rod "brace." 

The Chinaman in Burma has taken his cue 
from the homeland and has cut off his queue. 
Never can it be said again that a "pigtail" 
hangs down every Chinaman's back. And now 
that he is no longer tied to the past by the 
hair of his head, he is making radical advances 
in other ways. As we see his sturdy industry 
and independence, we can not but heartily 
wish him Godspeed. 

You stretch your stiffened limbs, 

Phlegmatic John; 
And with a mighty stride 

The world moves on. 



CHAPTER V 

THE BURMAN HIMSELF — AND HER- 
SELF 

THE Burman thinks his land is a good place 
in which to live, else why is he so willing 
to stay there and the foreigner so willing 
to come? If the latter is like himself, he must 
be there for the pleasure it brings, for the 
Burman's conception of happiness is not that 
which is found in anticipation, in sacrificing for 
the future. He sees no satisfaction in the ac- 
quiring of wealth as such, but only in its spend- 
ing. Because money does not have time to 
settle on him, he has made his land a more 
attractive country than many in the Bast; for 
even that gaiety which is but the gloss of happi- 
ness has its lure. His is the bliss of the untutored 
mind, the optimism of the simple life. The 
wants and worries of modern civilization have 
small place in his daily — no, not routine, for 
he hates it — in his daily change. Did they but 
know it, Epicurus is the patron philosopher of 
these people of a land of plenty. 

The Burman is such a man as you would 

69 



yo In the Land of Pagodas 




A Burmese Government Officer in Official Dress 



The Burman Himself — and Herself yi 

look at three times in the street. Let us bother 
one of a type who is approaching us, by in- 
dulging in a stare which he has brought upon 
himself by dressing in so much color. And 
what an exquisite taste he has for color and its 
combinations! Not such combinations and 
hues as Americans would put into a smart 
make-up, but such a color scheme as we would 
put into a room — ideal for the Burman, and 
much admired by the visitor to these shores. 
His head-piece is of a delicate tint of green silk, 
his coat of white, his lower garments of dark- 
green changeable silk, and his shoes are covered 
with olive velvet. The soft tints of pink and 
red are also favorites. No hideous stripes and 
sharp contrasts of gaudy colors are to be seen. 
As to the form of his dress and the method of 
his dressing: Take two yards of silk and wrap 
it around the head at the temples, tucking in 
the end so that a corner waves plume-like, and 
you have his hat; tighten a little the loose flow 
of a short kimono, and you have his coat; 
extend a flour sack to the size of a barrel, cut 
out the bottom, put it on over the head and 
lower it till the top reaches the waist and the 
bottom just clears the ground; overlap the 
ample girth in front, twist it into a knot and tuck 
it inside the belt thus formed, and you have the 



72 



In the Land of Pagodas 



"trousers"; for shoes, take soles and make 
uppers sufficient to form a little three-cornered 
pocket for the toes, or two pieces of padded 
tape may rise from between the toes and fasten 
at the sides. His diminutive turban gives him 
a jaunty ap- 
pearance, his 
coat makes him 
look cool, his 
hobble-iike 
skirt shortens 
his step, and 
his sandals 
cause him to 
drag his feet. 
The educated 
classes of peo- 
ple in the towns 
are now affect- 
ing Western 
shoes and 
stockings and 
an almost- 
European coat. 
The modern 
umbrella, com- 
mon the world over, has largely displaced 
he fiat, Japanese type. The women dress 




A Youth in Characteristic Burmese Dress 



The Burman Himself — and Herself yj 



in the same way as the men, except that 
they have no headdress but combs and flowers, 
their coats are cut to a Uttle different pattern, 
and the skirt is fastened in a different way. 
The people are of medium height or small. 

Very tall or very 
stout men are 
few. 

The true Bur- 
mese trousers are 
said to be tattoo. 
Most of the men 
and boys are tat- 
tooed from the 
waist to the 
knees. The tail- 
oring of this pair 
of trousers, which 
is guaranteed not 
to rip or wear, is a 
painful ordeal of 
boyhood. There 
is a tradition 
that at first the 
higher classes in 
the towns adopted this method of disting- 
uishing themselves from the jungle people; 
then the latter followed the townspeople so as 




And Another who Affects Half Kuropcan 
Style 



74 I^i ihe Land of Pagodas 

not to be thought ignorant; and now this dis- 
figurement is going out of style because it is 
said to mark the countryman. Besides these 
trousers that won't come off, the Burman wears 
a thin, tight shirt and flowing Chinese trousers 
for underwear. 

A look into the face of our subject reveals 
his relation to his neighbors of China and 
Japan. But his eyes are more open and less 
oblique than theirs. He can not grow a full 
mustache or beard, and the few hairs that do 
appear are naturally not welcome. Partly to 
save shaving, he carries in his pocket a small 
pair of pincers, and has recourse to pulling out 
the intruders by the roots. 

The Burmese are generally tidy and clean 
about their persons, and just the opposite about 
their surroundings. There is great hope, how- 
ever, for a man who comes "next to godliness" 
in his daily bath. The favorite bath-rooms are 
front yards and village well sides. By a dexter- 
ous manipulation of garments they maintain 
decency, and yet get a thorough scrub and pour. 

The visitor is impressed with the happy 
expressions on the countenances of these people ; 
and though he is kept awake at night by the 
yelled songs of a belated joy walker, he feels 
that dull care rests lightly upon their shoulders. 



The Burman Himself — and Herself 75 

They are indeed a jolly race. This, with the 
abundant fresh air of their open houses 
and their frequent bathing., grants them quite 
good health in spite of the food they eat, which 
is usually abominable. The inside of the platter 




The Ordeal of Being Tattooed 

remains unwashed. In the case of many, they 
are good-looking until they open their mouths. 
Rice and curry are the bread and butter of 
Burma. Rice is the staff of life, and curry is 
the rod. Curry can not be described at one 
sitting. Like American hash, it may be any- 
thing, and tastes like everything. It often has 



7^ In the Land of Pagodas 

a meat basis — fish, flesh, or fowl — contains bits 
of a variety of vegetables and spices, and has 
the consistency of a stew. But if the uninitiated 
should shut his eyes and taste it, he would 
affirm that it consisted of stewed peppers; for 
chillis are freely sprinkled in. One little chilli 
in a curry sufficient for a large family is enough 
to cause an unwhipped alimentary canal to call 
lustily for water; but these people can eat down 
the little vegetable misnomers raw and un- 
accompanied, without a change of expres- 
sion. 

Ngapi is a representative of Burmese dietary 
abominations. It is simply rotten fish. The 
smell of it beggars description. It combines 
all the offensive odors we have ever sensed. 
Yet this outrage to the olfactory organs is one 
of the most toothsome titbits of a whole people. 
We have seen children of the poor licking the 
juice of the stuff as it dripped from freight-cars 
at the stations. Still, the Burmans do not have 
a monopoly on disgusting foods. 

In common with most of the natives of 
India, the Burmese indulge in the use of a prepa- 
ration of betel leaves and lime, called by them 
kun. When chewed, this produces a red juice, 
and the first sight of an open mouth containing 
it is as startling as the bursting of an artery. 



The Biirman Himself — and Herself yy 

In time the teeth turn black. If to this is added 
crooked and rotting incisors, and a stench for 
breath, as is often the case with the jungle 
people, the facial opening is 'a forbidding cavern 
to the assiduous users of the tooth-brush and 
the mouth wash. The use of kiin is not universal, 
however, and lately the cigarette is substituted 
for it, — not to say that this is an improvement, 
except in appearance. 

Both sexes, all ages, smoke, smoke, smoke — 
anything from leaves and chipped wood to 
opium. Tobacco is most commonly used, but 
it is not chewed, smoked in a pipe, nor taken as 
snuff, but is formed into cigars. Most of the 
cigars are cheap and large — so swelled with 
chipped-wood stuffing and corn-husk cover that 
the lips can not be gotten over the near end 
with propriety. 

The Burman is respectful in the presence of 
authority, and his manners are good. As a social 
companion, he is a very likeable person indeed. 
He is nearly always at leisure for a visit, and 
few can be as pleasant as he. But his "little 
behindhand" is well developed, and business 
and managing ability are lacking. Whatever 
business the Burmans do is managed largely by 
the women. I verily believe a Burmese woman 
would rather sell than eat. Her glory lies in 



yS In the Land of Pagodas 

bargaining and making change, while her hus- 
band passes her the goods. 

The Burman is slow to wrath, but quijck 
when he gets there. He is not often seen 
fighting, but seems temporarily insane when he 
does begin, and fights to kill. Perhaps because 
the terrible consequences are known, every 
non-participant in a combat tries to stop it. 
I have witnessed a number of encounters 
between both boys and men, and every time 
the combatants were separated by their friends. 

At a great: woman suffrage convention in 
one of the large cities of America a noted 
suffragist was making a speech on the conditions 
of women in all lands. She had just returned 
from a world tour, and was enthusiastic over the 
prospect of the growing freedom of women and 
their increasing participation in the affairs of 
the world. At one moment in her speech she 
burst forth with something like this: "Ladies, 
I found that women in far away Burma have 
been given the vote. Burmese women in the 
city of Rangoon may cast their ballots in certain 
local elections on an equality with their hus- 
bands and brothers." 

It was a glowing report, and it was true; 
although it does not give a true picture of the 
progress of woman suffrage in Burma. This 




A Burmese Lady of the Very Fasiiioiiable Type 



79 



8o In the Land of Pagodas 

lecturer knew more about the right to vote of 
the Uttle silken ladies of that land than the 
Burmese women know themselves ; for over there 
they know little about votes, and care less 
about the affairs of government than their 
American sisters. But the most that such a 
statement conveys is that Burmese women are 
free, — comparatively. 

The dainty damsels of the land that nestles 
in a corner of southern Asia seem to laugh first 
and last, if not all the time. They can't say the 
Burmese word for laugh (yee) without parting 
their lips and showing their teeth in a smile at 
least. Ma Burma laughs because she does not 
have to be only one of a number of wives of 
the same man, and be compelled to wear a heavy 
veil over her face when she goes out on the 
street, as do her Mohammedan sisters through- 
out the East. She laughs because she does not 
have to remain "in purdah" — always have to be 
hidden behind the curtains of her home prison 
— as is the fate of her Hindu neighbor woman 
in India. She laughs because hers is not the lot 
of hard work and bound and crippled feet of 
many of the women of China. She laughs 
because she has the opportunity to do what she 
likes to do most, " to buy and sell and get gain." 
On a continent of women slaves th liberty of 



The Biirman Himself — and Herself 8i 





Burmese Womanliood at its Best 



82 In the Land of Pagodas 

Burma's women shines like the rubies of their 
mines. 

But we would not be misunderstood. There is 
a drawback to every blessing in any land where 
the religion of Jesus Christ has not purified the 
hearts of men. With all her freedon, the demure 
brown woman of Burma must walk behind her 
husband on the street, take all the care of the 
children, do much of the hard work, carry the 
loads on her head and the heavy burdens of the 
household on her heart. The girl babies are 
much more unwelcome than boys, and generally 
are not considered worth educating. With 
cheerful grace the sister carries around the 
pampered baby brother on her hip. But she 
can roam the roads, play to her heart's content, 
go to market, smile at the world, stay unmarried 
till she is grown, and choose a husband herself. 
So she laughs. 

As to grace of carriage, dignity of bearing, 
and pride of race, the Burmese people are made 
of the stuff that kings are made of. They 
revel in color and music, show and display. 
They are artists, but not artisans. Not having 
learned how to obey, they can not command. 
Their strong and good traits are not of the 
sort that long endure in this modern workaday 
world, more's the pity. Should time last, their 



The Burman Himself — and Herself 8j 

fate would he assimilation. But should this 
come, those who know them best hope that their 
general likableness may be transmitted. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE WAY UP COUNTRY 

THE long Up Mail stands ready in the 
Rangoon station for the three-hundred- 
eighty -mile trip to Mandalay. Under the 
low, smoke-blackened roof of the train-shed the 
light is poor, and we peer into the different com- 
partments until we find our names written on 
cards placed at the head of our berths. These 
places have been reserved for us by request. 
Amid much confusion and shouting of coolies 
we pile in our luggage (not baggage) , and with a 
feeling of preparedness for the worst, stroll up 
and down the platform to view the train in- 
cidentally, and our fellow travelers especially. 
Lest we seem to digress, we shall eschew com- 
ment on the latter for the present. 

Some aspects of this line of cars strike a new- 
comer as strange indeed. To Americans the 
European type of engine appears peculiar. It 
sits low on the tracks, with square front and 
boxed-in sides. The tracks in Burma are 

narrow-gage, the rails being about three feet 

84 



The Way Up Country 85 

apart. The cars are the usual width, and so 
they look top-heavy. They are of different 
lengths, the longest being a little shorter than 
the American Pullman. The longer ones have 
double trucks, but the shorter have single 
pairs of wheels, with spokes. Various types 
of car construction prevail. The first- and 
second-class carriages are divided into three 
or four compartments, and the third-class is all 
in one, generally. The cars are hooded for pro- 
tection from the heat; that is, they have double 
tops, the upper part leaving a six-inch space 
between it and the lower, and reaching down 
the side to below the window tops. The first- 
class compartments are painted white on the 
outside, the second-class green, and the third- 
class light brown. Red, too, must be included 
in the color scheme, and so the luggage and mail 
compartments are adorned with crimson. Each 
division has its respective class number indi- 
cated by large raised letters on the side. The 
government officials usually have the white 
places to themselves, the natives crowd the 
brown ones, and the green is a meeting-ground 
for the commonwealth of all peoples. 

We start for our places, when a porter clangs 
a hand-bell that is altogether too big for him, 
as a sign that in five minutes we shall be on our 



The Way Up Country 8y 

way. There is an extra rush as belated passen- 
gers clamber on board, a loud slamming of doors 
along the line, and at the expiration of the time 
limit the whistle toots — not a strong, healthy 
whistle, but an effeminate shriek — and we are 
off. You may walk and run along with us for a 
time, since there are no jerks nor fast get- 
aways in the land where time is not precious. 
We are starting at sixteen fifty o'clock, since 
there are not two twelves in a day, but really 
twenty-four hours, for the Burmese railways. 

As the city fades away, we turn to inspect 
our compartment. It measures about eight 
feet wide by ten long and eight high. Along 
the sides, except at the doors, are cane-seated 
benches with springs. Passengers thus sit 
with their backs to the windows, unless there is 
plenty of room and they dare manifest enough 
ill manners to stretch their legs along the seat. 
In an endeavor to combine a bed and a seat 
in one, the company has made this very neces- 
sary part of comfortable traveling too narrow 
to sleep on and too wide to sit on. The first- 
class seat is convertible, so that one can face 
the front; but the third-class has just foot- 
wide boards, an extra seat in the middle of the 
car, and overhead "upper berths," which are 
in reality third-quality pantry-shelves. In our 



88 In fin- l.'inJ <[[ l\iyo(liis 

cAw'xAy^c (lie nisliionod iippcM bortli is lOUlcd 
:i!;:iinsl llu' wall wluMi it is iiol in uso. ( )poniii};" 
olT llir rojupaiiiiicut is a cliniiuulivc wash and 
iMoscM room. 

vScvoral l\-llow traxoKMS sliarc our slulT\- ix^ll. 
()iu\ a C'liiiiainaii, i;a/A"S slolidh' out ol the 
wiiulow ; an Indian lolls in a corner, and a 
eii;airl(e, willi a \t)nni;" Hnrnian i)nllin!;' poison 
iVom one end o{ it, oeenpies anotluM. And theie 
is lui;L;ai;o, lni;i>ai;e, lni;.!;agc — least in inipoitanee, 
bill i;realesl in bnlk. Only a small amonnt of 
impedimenta maN be bookixl (^cheeked) free on a 
liekel and eaniinl in the biake-van (,bas;i;age 
ear), and am extra is ehaii^ed for at a hii;h late. 
(.'onseiinenth stern neeessil\" tells the Oriental to 
take il with him into his iH>mpartment, and, 
within a eeitain limit, no one says him nay. 
Atld to (his (he fae( (ha( we in (he l{ast mnst 
carry om eomforts with ns if we wonld lia\e any. 
It is the enstom to provide \ery few ecMnforts 
on (he trains, in (he lestdionses wiiieli are nvSed 
as lu^(els, and a( (he hoUvSes of friends. Rooms 
ate fmnished wi(h no more (han was Ivlisha's 
h((le room "on (he wall*" a( v'^hnnem. a bod, 
(able, stool, and eandlestiek being the snm. 
lUniding. toilet articles, etc.. nnist be taken on a 
ionrncN-. v'^o e\ei\- (laxeUM seems to be "shiK 
in'> " wi(h all his elTeiMs, There is no siijlu o{ (he 



The Way Up Country Sg 

stalwart European striding down the station 
platform between two suit cases; instead, he 
saunters along, and about ten coolies follow 
with his movables on their heads. 

Let us take an inventory^ of the various 
articles that clutter our feet — rolls of bedding, 
tin trunks, boxes, a sun-hat, basket of fruit, 
rugs, canes, umbrellas, gun, birds in cage, food 
basket, bath-tub, wash-bowl and pitcher, fold- 
ing table, bag of nuts, typewriter, water-jar, — 
but I wears' you. 

Shall we look from the window^ Broken 
only here and there by a tree-crowned eminence 
marking a .village, vast stretches of waving 
rice-fields extend to the bounds of the horizon. 
It seems incomprehensible that in this greatest 
of rice-growing countries ever}' plant is stuck 
into the ground by hand. And what appears 
to be one illimiitable field is in reality a countless 
number of little irregular patch- work puddles, 
many of them no larger than the space beneath 
a house. 

The view out soon becomes monotonous, and 
we welcome the station stops. The train slows 
down with a joltless, dignified ease, and the 
decreasing roar is interspersed with the babel of 
the station furies, — coolie women crying their 
extreme willingness to carry luggage, and fight- 



QO In the Land of Pagodas 

ing one another for the privilege. The train is 
to stop for twenty minutes for no apparent 
reason, and we aUght to look around. Native 
men come swinging by with two baskets on a 
pole, one containing a pot of hot rice and the 
other various kinds of curry. A banana leaf 
serves as a plate and fingers for forks, and a 
good hearty lunch is sold to the passengers 
through the low train windows, — price eight 
cents. Here is a Burmese woman serving 
various tasty edibles, which she carries in a 
wide flat basket on her head, languidly waving 
a stick over them to keep the crows away. 
Her plaintive cry is, "Poo deh, cho deh. ' ' 
(It's hot, it's sweet). A flock of crows is perched 
on the tops of the cars, watching an opportunity 
to swoop for the leavings, while a horde of 
skinny dogs run in and out among the wheels, 
ready to snap for chicken bones. 

A little engine is shunting wagons (switching 
freight-cars) on a side-track. Here is a native 
brakeman using a unique brake to stop his 
shunted wagon at the right place — a brake on 
which these railways seem to have an exclusive 
patent right. But I shall not risk divulging a 
trade secret when I tell you that the brake con- 
sists in the man's running along ahead of the 
moving wagon and putting little stones on the 
track to retard its progress. 



The Way Up Country 



Qi 



At length we get started again slowly, and the 
tiresome journey continues. The speed limit 
is twenty-five miles an hour, and we make 
about twenty. With uncomfortable seats, close 
compartments, slow rate of travel, and long 




The Great Gotec Bridge, Built by American Engineers 

journeys, travel is not pleasant in Burma. But 
the speed is so much greater than the slow- 
moving bullock-cart that there is little com- 
plaint on the part of those who formerly knew 
only the snail-pace. Why be in a hurry? There 
is another day coming. The greater speed the 



gz In the Land of Pagodas 

more jolting, and slowness insures safety. And 
while these trains are classed, by foreigners, 
among the things that creep, they have their 
advantages. They are safe, frequent, and 
commodious, and since they have all the time, 
they are rarely behind it. 

The road bed is in excellent condition, the 
ties being of the old reliable wooden sort. The 
white ants would soon consume these for lunch 
if it were not that the frequent trains keep them 
trembling, and his antship does not relish 
shaky food. But the same preservative is not in 
operation with the telegraph poles and fence 
posts, hence they are of steel, set in cement. 
The former are worn-out rails and are well 
adapted for the purpose. Painted on each pole 
in plain sight of the moving cars is the number 
of miles from the terminus of the road, and also 
the number of the pole in that mile. Thus 
the traveler at any moment may ascertain just 
how many feet he is from his destination. 

In places where cuts and fills are made along 
the track the earth is removed with hoe-like 
tools and carried in baskets on the heads of 
coolie women. The work is done by the piece 
and they are paid according to the number of 
cubic yards removed. In order to show how 
high the top of the ground was before the ex- 



The Way Up Country qj 

cavation was made, columns of earth are left 
standing at intervals. These are usually crowned 
with a tuft of grass or weeds to prove that that 
was really the top; and, being about a foot in 
diameter, they have the appearance of human 
beings, and are called "dead men." So it is 
often said that the railway is strewn on either 
side with dead men. 

We engage in conversation, after asserting 
our rights to the air by insisting that the Burman 
shall cease to "drink his cigarette." The talk 
drifts to fares on the railway. 

"What is the rate of fares?" I asked my 
companion. 

"One pice (half cent) a mile third-class, three 
pice second-class, five pice first-class," was the 
answer; and he continued by way of further 
explanation: "You will notice that each ticket 
has the color of the compartment in which 
it grants a ride ; and the amount it costs is printed 
on it. Usually none of the train authorities 
trouble you about your ticket until you pass out 
of the station at your destination, and many 
times you are not requested to show it at all." 

"I should think such a method would give 
ample opportunity for dishonest persons to 
steal rides." 

"It does seem so, and yet it is surprising how 



g4 In the Land of Pagodas 

few persons get free rides on these trains, con- 
sidering the carelessness and grafting propen- 
sities of some of the employees." 

"Are our missionaries granted special rates?" 
"Yes, they get half -fares by written request 
to the traffic manager for each trip; or certifi- 
cates lasting a month are granted. We mission- 
aries usually travel second-class. The third- 
class fare is only a little less than half second- 
class fare, and for the difference in cost it doesn't 
pay to endanger our health and the reputation 
of our work, A person's standing is everything 
over here, and he is judged by the way he lives 
and travels. Certain standards are expected 
of Europeans and Americans, and if one does 
not live up to them (and they are reasonable) 
the natives lose respect for him. Also, at times, 
these third-class compartments are veritable 
pens of filth and disease. By the way, did you 
ever hear of 'pipe-stem traveling'?" 

I confessed my ignorance of the meaning of 
the expression, and my friend explained: "Well, 
I heard the expression in Japan. You see, a 
Japanese pipe has a valuable bowl and mouth- 
piece, but these two are connected by a cheap 
and changeable stem. It is said that when the 
gentleman with the slim purse desires to make a 
good impression upon his friends, he buys a 



The Way Up Country 95 

first-class ticket when his journey begins, but 
only to the next station. At the first stop, he 
alights and buys a third-class ticket, and takes 
a lower seat until within one station of his 
destination, when he changes again, and is 
able smilingly and without ' loss of face ' to greet 
his friends from a first-class carriage. The 
reason for this being called pipe-stem travel 
is obvious." 

Meal-time suggests that there are two alter- 
natives for the refreshment of the appetite. 
There are no dining cars on the trains, and so 
we partake of the viands supplied at the station 
restaurants, or resort to the tiffin basket. 
The latter we have brought with us, and it 
consists of a large (for a basket) trunk-like 
affair, usually crated, or in some way reinforced 
to withstand the wear. Now "tiffin" as a 
word is the sole property of Anglo-Indian 
circles, and comes from "tiffing," which signi- 
fies eating between meals. So tiffin is luncheon 
in the East, but always the luncheon between 
breakfast and dinner; that is, about noon or 
early afternoon. But a tiffin basket carries 
meals, of whatever name. And its fitting-up 
ranges all the way from the very simple to the 
very elaborate, according to the taste and 
pocket-book of the owner. It is very handy to 



96 



In the Land of Pagodas 



have an alcohol or an air-pressure oilstove in it 
so that water or food may be heated. Lacking 
this we could resort to the escape valve on the 




A Traveling Restaurant 



The Way Up Country gy 

engine for hot water, if the driver (engineer) 
is friendly. 

The food hawked along the station platforms 
does not appeal to the eye nor taste of those 
whose ideas of cleanliness and attractiveness of 
victuals have been cultured along the lines of 
Western propriety. So at the stations where we 
arrive about meal- times are restaurants, ar- 
ranged first-, second-, and third-class, and ample 
time — at the rate of the East — is given for the 
satisfaction of the appetite. 

In the old days the river Irrawaddy was the 
only highway to the up-country; and it was, and 
is yet, a broad and handy way indeed, however 
winding. The prows of palatial steamers and 
swift launches cut its yellow waters today; 
and a delightful round trip is made by tourists 
in going to Mandalay by train, and back by 
sliding down the devious course of the father 
of Burmese waters. 

We leave the train to meet with transporta- 
tion more primitive. A not- to-be-despised mode 
of travel in Burma, even in this day of electric, 
steam, and motor vehicles, is the lowly bullock 
cart. Every foreigner must come to it, if he 
stays here long and goes anywhere. Off the 
beaten track of the globe trotter, the cart roads 
are poor, as a rule. The English are the best 

4 



g8 In the Land of Pagodas 

road builders in the world, it is said, and no 
one can complain about the ones they have 
built in Burma. But there are few of them in so 
big a country. The strictly Burmese roads are 
ditches. The cartmen go "the shortest way 
there," and the roads are never "worked." 
The water from the torrential rains, finding its 
level there as everywhere, seeks the cart tracks 
for channels; and in the course of years, water 
and wheel furrow into the ground a deeply 
sunken road, ever rough and bumpy, and 
smothered in dust in dry weather. 

On such lowways it is evident that two 
wheels are just half the difficulty of four; hence 
the cart. Its bed is made square, with woven 
bamboo for a floor. It has picket-fence sides 
about a foot high. If covered, the top is of the 
prairie-schooner style, and is made of matting, 
with adjustable extra pieces to extend over 
front and back in case of rain. This is the 
common make; but there are variations for 
different purposes. The tongue is of two 
converging pieces of wood, fastened wide apart 
at the axle and meeting where the yoke is 
attached to them in front. The yoke itself is 
of common variety, except that the pieces which 
parallel the necks of the bullocks are like broom 
sticks. They protrude through holes in the 



The Way Up Country gg 

beam that rests on the back of the neck, and 
are easily removable. Across the tongue-pieces, 
and right between the flanks of the bullocks, 
being in front of the cart box proper, short 
boards are placed for the driver's seat. 

The wheels are quite modern, although before 
the country was opened up they used to be huge 
slabs of wood. The axle is made of hard jungle 
wood, and the wheels are kept on by pins 
in its ends. I have been explicit, because the 
Burmese cart is a remarkable vehicle — not for 
looks, far from it, but for adaptability. Some- 
times singly, but usually in long caravans, 
thousands of these simple conveyances worm 
through the valleys and wind over the hills, 
bearing the weight of Burma's load. 

A few days after our arrival in the up-country, 
we were slumbering peacefully in the gray 
dawn, the only cool and sleep-producing part 
of the night. Dream -like and far away there 
came a piercing cry, like the plantive call of 
some wild thing in distress. Again and louder 
it sounded, till it penetrated sleep-dulled ears 
like a pain. There was a sudden sitting up in 
bed, a quickened heart-beat, and a whispered, 
"What's that?" A moment of stillness and it 
came again, a long-drawn-out shriek that cut 
the misty atmosphere like a knife. What 



The Way Up Country loi 

horrible agony, that could project such sounds 
into the ghostly stillness ! And yet the neighbor- 
hood was not alarmed ! Now, again, and nearer ! 
Shriek! screech! yell! scream! — shriek! screech! 
yell ! scream ! Oh, the terror of it ! It stimulated 
action, and yet forbade it. We must do some- 
thing. Crawling stealthily out from under the 
net and over to the window, we peered road- 
ward into the haze. It approached, but we 
stuck to our post with the bravery of despera- 
tion. Then, slowly through the fog it loomed, 
and took shape. Our hair dropped back into its 
natural attitude, and we laughedl Nothing 
but a Burmese cart on the way to early market, 
and the driver fast asleep on his seat. 

vSomewhat exaggerated, says the stranger to 
Burma. Our fright, — perhaps so. But not the 
noise. It puts description to shame. For the 
Burman scorns to grease his cart wheels. With 
a heavy load and wood frictioning wood, the 
squeaks and squawks and squoks are never 
the same, but always painful — to all but the 
occupants of the cart. But why this affliction 
of the ear, we ask, with earth-oil almost as 
cheap as dirt. Two reasons are given. One is, 
that the racket drives away evil spirits; but the 
other, and much more practical, one is that 
gritty dust sticks to the grease and wears away 



102 In the Land of Pagodas 

the wooden axle. But even at that we fail to 
quite see the mechanical philosophy of it; yet 
settle back to bear it, as something of the 
vexatious in Oriental life that will not be 
remedied. 

Well, we are ready to attempt a ride. As is 
usual with country-going carts, at the back 
there is a large bag-like projection, made of 
bamboo strips, to provide a place for bullock 
food, water cans, and other impedimenta of 
the journey. So we are deprived of the happy 
privilege of letting our feet dangle out of the 
back end. We must crawl into the prison from 
the front, before the bullocks are attached. 
There are no elevated seats, for the Burman 
doesn't use any; and anyway the top is too low 
for them. So our comfort is found in any 
permissible sitting-on-the-floor attitude we may 
invent. 

The bullocks are heavy fellows, with the 
usual fat-hump above the shoulders common 
to all Eastern draught kine. The driver- -he 
likes to be called the "chief officer of the cart" 
— maneuvers his animals into place with con- 
siderable deftness, meanwhile making a kissing 
noise with his mouth to keep them steady and 
quiet, exactly the same noise we make to pro- 
duce the opposite effect on a horse. The reins are 



The Way Up Country 



103 



small, stout ropes, and are fastened, in lieu of 
a bridle, through holes in the noses of the patient 
beasts. Their motto is. Slow and steady. We 
start, or are supposed to, but it is difficult to 
detect the movement. The operation is some- 
thing like 

this: The ^fs ^^' 

bullocks 
stand firm- 
ly on all 
fours, and 
at the com- 
mand to go 
they lean 
frontwards 
against the 
yoke, ging- 
erly ; and as the load slowly follows, a forefoot is 
extended, to save them from falling forward. 
They keep on leaning, and the other forefoot 
takes its turn. A succession of such movements, 
slightly accelerated, makes progress. And this is 
their speed limit, if left to themselves. But im- 
patient passengers and a liberal fee provide an 
original source of greater haste. 

The only springs present are those between 
our vertebrae, and they were not made to meet 
this. Jolt, jiggle, tip, bump, roll; rub, rattle. 




On the Road in a Bullock Cart 



104 ^'^ ^^^^ Land of Pagodas 

dust, heat, smells — on we go, and are worn 
nerve-bare in a mile. 

Possibly going faster and getting the thing 
over would be preferable. So we suggest it. 
The "chief officer" protests; sore-footed bullocks, 
hot sun, etc., are his excuses. But at last we 
insist; and he rises — literally — to the occasion. 

Now in India a driver resorts to the tails of 
his bullocks as accelerators. With a gutteral 
trill over his tongue, he reaches for a caudle 
appendage like changing the speed on a Ford, 
and gives it a vigorous twist that quickly injects 
pep into a jaded beast. And this is kept up 
during the life-time of the animal till the abused 
tail is sadly lifeless and disconnected in its bony 
structure, looking very much like the string of 
spools the baby pulls across the floor. Or it 
may be, on occasion, that the Indian cart-man 
tries some other way. Leaning far over the 
bullocks, he threateningly brandishes his whip- 
stick over their heads with a motion resembling 
that of the bow over the violin strings, the while 
emitting a series of shrill yelps calculated to 
freeze bovine blood. 

But no tail-twists nor fiddle-music for the 
Burman. Our man grabs his reins in one hand, 
and his goad in the other, and jumps to his 
feet with a yell. Then, with every muscle 



The Way Up Country io$ 

alert, he shoots out a volley of epithets over a 
mouth-full of kun juice: "Oun-n-n-g meh-leh! 
Nwa-dee! Thwa! Thwa! Thwa! Uh! Uh! 
Uh!" — which, freely translated, means, Oh 
mother! (a forceful interjection ever springing 
to the lips of a Burman) Bullock! (literally, 
he-cattle) Go! Go! Go! And the last three 
sounds are chesty grunts, accompanied by 
energetic pokes into the animal's flanks with 
the point of the goad. 

As a surprisingly quick effect of this sudden 
outburst the bullocks lean forward more nearly 
like lightning, and "thwa." And we also 
"thwa." Every previous disagreeable sensa- 
tion we have experienced is multiplied in 
intensity by ten, and a number of new ones 
added. Projected in every direction in rapid 
succession, the rebound is truly harrowing. 
We begin to think of resultant black and blue 
spots on anatomical projections, and decide 
to forego our speed mania for the present. We 
communicate this humiliating conclusion to 
the "chief officer," and, with the faintest of 
smiles, he soon brings the flying equipage to 
a full stop. Then, lighting a big cheroot, our 
Jehu calmly puffs away at it and awaits our 
further pleasure. We say nothing, for there 
is nothing adequate to the occasion that can 



io6 In the Land of Pagodas 

be said. So we emerge very much disheveled 
in appearance and cowed in spirit, and settle 
for all time that there is only one way to travel 
comfortably with a Burmese cart; and that is 
—to walk! 



CHAPTER VII 

OF THE BURMANS BURMESE 

SOON after going to Burma, we received a 
letter from a small boy acquaintance in 
America, asking if we lived in a tree. 
Perhaps this idea is akin to the notion that 
the sun never shines in darkest Africa, or that 
all the vegetation in China is yellow. However, 
it may be our young friend did see a picture 
of a house in a tree, purporting to be a reflection 
of life in Burma. But after a number of years 
of living in and traveling about this land of 
peculiarities we did not see one house in a tree, 
though we heard there are some. Burmese 
tree-houses are just about as ordinary as 
American tree-houses. 

But the Burman is fond of living "up in the 
air," at least in the low-lying parts of the 
country. Paddy (rice) is the most general 
crop, and it must be kept flooded. The ground 
is covered with water during the rainy season; 
and, even if it were possible, it would bevery 
uncomfortable and unhealthful to live in a house 

107 



Of the Burmans Burmese log 

with a dirt floor. So the people usually perch 
their houses high up on posts. 

The typical Burmese house is made entirely 
of bamboo, that inestimable boon to the poor 
man in the tropics. Its firm structure, light 
weight, and straight-splitting tendency make it 
very valuable for building purposes. With it 
he makes all parts of his house, his linoleum, 
candlestick, drinking cup, savings bank, cow- 
bell, wrapping paper, horoscope, water pipe, 
furniture, baskets, handles for tools, and a 
hundred other articles too common to mention. 
I judge the least use he makes of it is for fish- 
ing poles. 

The primitive and only tool needed for the 
building is the dah, a long knife just about 
the size and shape of a straight corn-cutting 
knife. It is also the general weapon. It is 
wonderful in how many ways the Burman can 
use it. A skilled jungle man in the olden days 
could go into the forest with nothing but a dah, 
and emerge in a day or two with a complete 
and well-made bullock cart. 

In a house large enough to have two stories, 
the upper one is never above the lower, but is 
placed at the back, so that the two are like 
steps. If he can help it, no Burman will live 
or sleep beneath the room in which another 



no In the Land of Pagodas 

lives or sleeps. When we started our school 
we did not have room enough in the dormitory ; 
and in my ignorance I suggested that we make 
"double-decker" beds. We were warned before 
it was too late. 

Below the upper, or back, story of the house 
is the stable for the bullocks and carts. The 
floor of the bedroom above it is made of split 
bamboo, and has cracks about an inch wide. 
So the air in the sleeping apartments can not 
be very wholesome; and it would be almost 
unbearable if the walls were not made of bamboo 
matting and the windows kept open so that the 
breeze can have free course. 

The roof is usually made of short pieces of 
stripped bamboo, which are lapped like shingles. 
From within, it is possible to study the heavenly 
bodies through the roof; but it is surprising 
how little of even the heaviest rain comes 
through, when once the wood is wet. 

Every year a careful house owner daubs the 
walls and posts of his house with a coat of 
crude petroleum, and this preserves the light 
material for several years. The average life 
of the roof and walls is five years, when they 
must be entirely renewed. 

There is a little corner or room at one side of 
the front of the house which is set aside as a 



Of the Burmans Burmese iii 

cooking place. The "stove" is a low, wide box 
filled with earth. On it are large stones on 
which the cooking utensils are placed, and 
among which the fire is built. The rice is cooked 
in an earthen pot ; but the most common utensil 
is a large, shallow iron bowl in which many 
foods are boiled in grease. The Burman is 
very fond of fatty foods. 

Beds are usually made up on the floor, but 
some have a low wooden bed with bamboo strips 
for springs. A double mat or thin mattress is 
placed on top of the bamboo strips. The pillow 
is round and high and hard. There are no 
chairs, and a mat on the floor or a low platform 
serves as a table. 

Except in the larger towns, where there are 
sanitary laws rigidly enforced, all refuse and 
foul matter is let drop through the floor of the 
house, or dumped into the yard or street. It 
is no trouble at all to do the sweeping. During 
the rainy season the water is usually a foot 
or more deep beneath the house, and all wastes 
go into that. One can easily imagine the mess 
that is presented at the subsidence of the 
stagnant water. If it were not for the animal 
and insect scavengers, conditions would be in- 
deed deplorable. But chickens, ducks, crows, 
vultures, dogs, pigs, and ants attack the waste. 



112 hi the Land of Pagodas 

and thus save the Hves of the people from 
many epidemics. Is it any wonder that these 
filth consumers have the freedom of the house 
and are never killed? 

In such a house, and under such conditions, 
little Burmese boys and girls come into the 
world. And yet their early years are happy 
ones. They are named according to the day of 
the week on which they were born, to this 
extent: with each day of the week go certain 
letters of the Burmese alphabet, and the initial 
letter of the child's name must be one of the 
letters which go with his day. There are no 
family names, and it is difficult to distinguish 
members of the same family by any similiarity 
of names. But at times there is an intentional 
likeness in sounds, as witness the following 
four names of boys in the same family: Maung 
Thaw, Po Kaw, Po Pyaw, Ba Kyaw. 

As may be seen from these four, the names 
are usually composed of two monosyllabic 
words. Much more so than in English they are 
taken from the common nouns of the language. 
In our language we have the family names. 
Black, Gardener, House, Rose, Kitchen, etc., all 
of which are in ordinary use as common nouns. 
In Burma practically all of the names are of 
this sort; and many of them are such grotesque 



Of the Bnrmans Burmese iij 

combinations that they sound very strange to 
us. They might be anything from Beautiful 
Love, Golden Rice, and Fragrant Flower, to 
Hot Needle, Cross Wife, and Cocoanut Oil. 
Maung is the common word for Mr., and Ma 
for Miss or Mrs. Sometimes, because of his 
small size as a baby, a boy will be given the 
name Little Mister (Maung Ngae) or some 
other name to indicate a tiny body; and then 
he will grow up to be quite a large man, and 
will be ashamed to be called little. So he has 
the privilege of changing his name to Big 
Mister (Maung Gyi). 

While women and girls are not looked down 
upon in Burma as in many other countries of 
the Bast, yet boys are more desirable, and the 
Burman "lets the women do the work" more 
than Westerners like to see. The husband 
precedes his wife on the street, and she carries 
the bundles. Only boys are thought to be 
worth educating. But in babyhood both boys 
and girls are treated much the same. 

Among the first lessons the little ones must 
learn are getting used to the hot sun and enjoy- 
ing a cold bath. Not for them the thick sun- 
helmet of the European, so they crawl about 
bareheaded, meanwhile developing a thick crop 
of coarse, black hair. Almost white at birth, 



114 



In the Land of Pagodas 




<^''- 




The Boys Find Delightful Climhing Plaees among Old Shrines 

mother does not scruple to expose the tiny 
bare body to the mid-day sun for a time each 



Of the Burmans Burmese ii^ 

day to accustom it to the glare and actinic 
rays. So it isn't long till babies might be 
likened to roasted coffee beans. 

With most Burmans the daily bath is a joy; 
and they keep their bodies and clothes scrupu- 
lously clean. Still, few babies are naturally 
aquatic, and they must be taught to like the 
water. It is a common sight to see a mother 
with her diminutive charge at the bath. At 
a certain time in the morning she takes the 
little one, perhaps not able to sit up alone yet, 
sets it on a stone at the front steps, and pours 
water over its little body by the pail full. Of 
course the operation is accompanied by lusty 
howls from the victim, punctuated by blubbers; 
but the motto in this regard is. Spare the water 
and spoil the child; so the unfeeling parent is 
unconcerned. Consequently the babe soon 
learns to laugh and crow all through the deluge ; 
and if there is a stream or pond near his home, 
he grows up to take to water like a duck. 

Both sexes run around absolutely naked till 
they are five or six years old. The little girls 
are given the task of taking care of their little 
brothers, even when that same little brother is 
nearly as big as his big sister. And so, as the 
little governess plays with the neighbor girls 
she will carry baby brother astride her hip. 



ii6 In the Land of Pagodas 

holding him on with one arm and playing with 
the other. I have seen some lazy brothers 
carried this way when they were so big that 
their feet almost touched the ground. This 
would give every little Burmese girl curvature 
of the spine, were it not that when she is tired 
of him on one hip she deftly switches him over 
to the other "on the fly." And then, too, 
girls and women carry their burdens on their 
heads, and this gives them an erect carriage; 
while the men never do, and so have round 
shoulders. The straddle of mother's or sister's 
hip while children makes the Burmese adult 
walk with a spraddle that is far from elegant. 
When little Maung or Ma put on clothes each 
dresses just exactly as father or mother does, 
and incidentally tries to imitate the parent in 
dress effects. Their head gear is different 
however. They wear nothing to correspond to 
hats yet; but the boy lets his hair grow long, 
and it is tied around with a string tight to his 
head, the ends dangling out behind like the 
tops of a bunch of green vegetables. The little 
girl either follows his style or may do hers up 
in a little knot on top. 

About the time the boy begins to emerge 
from babyhood to boyhood, he is sent to the 
kyaung, or monastic school. The kyaungs are 



Of the Burmans Burmese iiy 

usually located in a secluded part of the village 
or town, and are surrounded by a court inclosed 
with a cactus hedge or tall fence. The priests 
are of all ages, and live together. They carry 
umbrellas or large palm-leaf fans to protect 
themselves from the sun, and are given to 
betel-nut chewing, expectorating the red juice 
in every direction. 

The kyaiing serves as a primary boarding 
school, the priests taking full charge of the young- 
sters. During the two years they remain, the little 
fellows act as servants to the priests, carrying 
water, cooking food, and attending them on 
their journeys, for a priest must not carry a 
burden. They do not don the yellow robe 
during these two years, but their heads are 
shaved. They are compelled to attend school 
for some time each day, and are taught the 
forms and prayers of the Buddhist religion, 
and incidentally to read, write, spell, and figure. 
Thus every m.ale Burman is able to read and 
write, a great advantage these people have 
over the other peoples of the East. Practically 
all of their mental work is memorizing, the 
priests having whole books by heart. 

While the boys are attending this school their 
lot is not hard. After duties are done they have 
their fun as all boys_do the world around. 



Ii8 In the Land of Pagodas 

Usually the food is good, having been begged 
from door to door from a liberal people who are 
glad to get merit by feeding the priests. When 
the time is up the boys may return home, as 




The Boys Attend the Priests and Learn their Lessons at the Kyaung 

most of them do; or they may remain and 
after ten years become priests and live an 
easy and meditative life. The priest must 
forego the joys of home and family, but he has 
a part in much of the pleasures of his people, 
since all good times are had in the name of 
religion. 

Meanwhile the little girl is helping mother 



Of the Burmans Burmese iig 

at home. In the early dawn she is up to help 
pound the husk off the rice for the day's food. 
She learns just how to cook the rice in the little 
earthen pot set on three stones with the fire 
between. She acquires the art of putting the 
right ingredients and the right amount of each 
into the curry to make it tasty, which is a culin- 
ary accomplishment not easily acquired. As soon 
as the meal is cooked she dashes water on the 
remaining half -burned sticks of wood, with a 
fuel economy born of necessity. 

The man of the house has been at work in the 
fields while mother and daughter have gone to 
the market to buy food for the day ; and break- 
fast is not eaten till about ten o'clock, although 
when first getting up they often eat a light 
lunch and drink some hot tea. The family 
surround a clean mat spread on the floor or 
on the ground under the house, and the rice 
and curry pots are placed in the center. Each 
person has a large enamel plate or banana leaf, 
a small bowl, and, if the curry is watery, a crude 
spoon. The plates are heaped high from the 
central receptacle with the use of a half cocoanut 
shell or the bare hand. The eating proceedure is 
without ceremony, and consists of first mixing 
a little curry with a little rice at the base of 
the mountain of that article on the plate, 



120 In the Land of Pagodas 

taking a surprisingly large wad of the mixture 
between the thumb and the first two fingers, 
then switching the mouthful onto the fingers 
with the thumb just back of it, and finally 
quickly shooting the whole into the mouth with 
a flip of the thumb. This is the main article 
of diet, and gives the name to all meals — curry- 
and-rice, that's a meal. It may be topped off, 
among the better classes or on special occasions, 
with other viands; but curry and rice provide 
the staples. The food is eaten very rapidly, 
and there might be more indigestion if the 
rice were not easily digested and the curry 
stimulating. 

After breakfast, the father lies down for a 
snooze till about three o'clock in the afternoon, 
a wise custom in such a hot climate. Then 
if he is industrious, as industry goes in Burma, 
or if necessity demands, he works till sundown. 
The heaviest meal of the day is taken in the 
evening. 

Meanwhile, a very important part of the day's 
program is performed by the mother and small 
children. They take the midday nap, too, 
but not before the noontide wash and bath. 
First, the mistress gathers together the para- 
phernalia for the operation. Under one arm 
she carries the daily wash, consisting perhaps 



Of the Burmans Burmese 121 

of three or four garments. In her hand she 
grasps a stick about the size and shape of half 
a broom handle. She takes an old strip of 
cloth, wraps it round and round itself into a 
circle till it looks like a doughnut, and places 
it on her head. This forms a nest for the 
roundbottomed water jar, and protects her 
head as she carries it. As nearly as they can the 
children equip themselves like the mother; and 
then all set off for the washing place, the little 
ones bearing their small jars on their heads as 
jauntily as they would wear a hat. 

Every neighborhood has a place to wash 
body and clothing. It may be a stream or a 
lake. Often it is an open well, perhaps without 
a curb to keep the foul water from draining 
back in. The first house we lived in at Meiktila 
was on the shore of Meiktila Lake, the water 
of which is used by natives and Europeans for 
drinking and all other purposes, there being 
no wells. 

I will describe the scene we witnessed every 
noon on the shore of this lake. Be it under- 
stood that the civil authorities use every 
legitimate means to keep this water pure. No 
sewage is supposed to go into it, and bathing 
in it is prohibited. 

Our Burmese mother and her two little girls 



122 In the Land of Pagodas 

approach the bank and join the group already 
there. Near the water's edge are several flat 
stones and slabs of wood. She fills her water 
pot at the lake and squats down with it by a 
stone- — her washboard, if you please. Her soiled 
longee (skirt) is extracted from the bundle, and 
thoroughly wetted and soaped. It is then placed 
in a wad on the stone and vigorously hammered 
with the stick. This primitive washing machine 
works on the same principle as the up-to-date, 
electrically-run affairs, and when the method 
is energetica-lly and patiently applied it does 
the work as thoroughly. The soapy water is 
forced through the cloth and removes the dirt. 
When the garment is well cleansed and rinsed 
she spreads it out on the grass, and the beating 
sunshine does more than a drying work upon it. 
The girls imitate the mother and operate on their 
own little garments, but usually the mother has 
to finish the work they start. 

The other garments are washed in due 
course, and then she takes her bath. Un- 
fastening her sack-like longee at the waist, she 
fastens the top of it above her breasts, the 
bottom reaching to her knees. Then her light 
coat is removed and she is ready for the water. 
Filling the water pot, and grasping the top 
of it firmly with both hands, she suddenly 



Of the Burmans Burmese I2j 

raises it and turns it up-side-down over her 
head — a shower bath de luxe ! If she would have 
it run slowly she fits the mouth of it more 
tightly on her head, and the water trickles 
down. 

When well soaked in this way, she applies 
the soap; and does it by simply inserting one 
arm and hand inside the cloth bathroom formed 
by her longee, and holding the top of the longee 
tightly about her shoulders with the other 
hand. When this is finished she rinses off the 
soap by the shower method, gathers up the 
recently washed and now "dry longee from the 
grass, slips it over her head and down over the 
wet one, and, while holding the dry one in place, 
unfastens the wet from beneath and lets it drop 
to her feet. She then adjusts the dry, steps out 
of the wet, and stands forth clean, having per- 
formed her ablutions in public with all decency 
and womanly modesty. 

Next, the garment she has used as a bathroom 
is washed, and while it is drying she sits on her 
heels, puffs at a big cigar, and gossips with her 
fellow washers. The little ones have gravitated 
to the water, in spite of the prohibiting sign, 
and now sport in high glee. What matters if 
some can not swim? They turn their water 
pots up-side-down in the water, and the captive 



124 In the Land of Pagodas 

air makes of them excellent floats. Also, they 
form airbags for the same purpose by taking 
off their soaked and almost air-tight longees, 
fixing them like a sack, and with a quick move- 
ment filling them with air and plunging their 
openings under the water. Poverty is the 
father of invention. 

The frolic and gossip over, the whole company 
step into the lake a few feet, right where the 
washing has been going on and all the dirty 
water has drained back in, and fill their jars • 
to be carried back home for drinking and cook- 
ing purposes. In fact, the average Burman, 
if he thinks about it at all, seems to work on 
the theory that water is water, and in some way 
purifies itself. Anyway, if it looks fairly clean 
it is all right. While such things are not common, 
we have seen a man wade down into a pond 
in the dry season, push away the green scum 
on the water from the place where he stood, 
wash his feet and legs, cleanse his mouth and 
teeth, and then fill his cans with drinking water 
from exactly the sam.e spot. One wonders how 
they manage to live through such practises. 
The truth is, in many cases they do not. 
As to those who do manage to live their alloted 
time, shall we say for them that the germi theory 
does not work in Burma; or is the following 



Of the Burmans Burmese 125 

explanation more satisfactory? By the diseases 
which result from unsanitary conditions, such as 
plague and cholera, very large numbers are 
taken off every year. But many always escape, 
because of an unusually good physique or other 
favorable conditions; and in thus being able 
to hold the germs at bay they build up a degree 
of immunity to these diseases, which immunity 
is passed on to succeeding generations. For 
it does seem true, as someone has said, that 
there are those of the natives of the East who 
"could swallow a spoonful of plague germs and 
not get the plague." Yet one of them, if he 
came to America, might very easily die of the 
measles. 

To return to the da3^'s routine; after the 
customary napping time in the hot hours, the 
waning period of light is spent as far as possible 
in taking it easy till evening meal time. Games 
that must be played by daylight are indulged 
in by the youth. But this recreation hour, 
and more especially the joy- time that comes 
after the evening meal, are so different from 
the humdrum of the Burmese day that they 
deserve special treatment in the chapter on 
play time. 

When our Burmese boy reaches the years of 
adolescence he must take on man's estate, which 



126 In the Land of Pagodas 

he does outwardly by being tattooed, and by 
donning a bright-colored band of silk cloth 
around his head. Of course, at this period, 
like youth the world over, his fancy runs to 
vari-colored clothes of the flashy type. 

The tattooing ordeal is an event and a turning 
point in his young life, for the way he bears 
it has much to do with his rating among his 
fellows. He is now a man, and, if he values his 
reputation, not a whimper escapes him during 
the painful operation. 

His sister, too, sees a change in her status 
in her early teens. Her confirmation for the 
rating of a woman is shown by having her ears 
bored for ear-rings. The ceremony is made a 
gala occasion. Relatives and friends gather 
as to a festival, and there is much music and 
eating and a general good time. However, this 
follows the ceremony. An adept at ear-boring 
is secured, and the company make merry as he 
pierces the victim's ear lobes. This is to attract 
the attention of the little sufferer from her 
pain. 

As the sores heal the holes are kept open 
and made larger by inserting grass-blades and 
wooden pegs in them, and occasionally twisting 
the insertions. The usual order is to continue 
to enlarge the openings until they are half an 



Of the Burmans Burmese 12/ 

inch in diameter. In the meantime appropriate 
ornaments are worn in the ears, — also weights, 
which help to enlarge the holes. We have often 
seen women use these holes for cigar carriers. 
Some of the hill tribes extend the lobes till they 
are mere ribbons of flesh reaching to the shoul- 
ders, with holes so large that a man's arm could 
be run through them. 

When Ma Burma has passed the ear-boring 
crisis her hair is bobbed on a level with her 
ear lobes, and this is a sign that she is eligible for 
marriage. Before long she will perhaps work 
(or play) at selling silks in the bazaar. The 
silk bazaar is the place above all places in 
Burma for the beginning of romance. Here 
she makes eyes at Maung Burma, who at this 
time has a surprising interest in silks. 

The courting is all very decorously done, how- 
ever, and the two are never seen alone together. 
They have the heart-beats that make the whole 
world kin; but the manner of approach is quite 
different and altogether admirable in many 
ways. His evening call on her is characteristic. 

About nine o'clock young Maung sallies forth 
with a boon companion, who is on the same 
quest after his own particular lady. One of the 
two will perhaps play a flute as they go along 
together, and the other yells a love song at the 



128 In the Land of Pagodas 

top of his voice. The ditty seems to have 
neither rhyme nor rhythm, time nor tune. No 
matter if the neighbors hear, and are riiade 
aware of what is going on. Why should youth 
be ashamed? 

The serenade continues till her home is 
reached and maybe for a while in front of it. 
Then, the accompanist remains in the street 
while the chief actor proceeds up the steps to the 
little veranda. The demure miss has dressed 
herself in her best array for the occasion, and now 
sits waiting for her caller. Her finest silk 
clothing is in display, her dark hair well oiled 
and bedecked with combs and sweet scented 
little white flowers, and her face — well, it is 
ghostly. Burmese women use a sort of creamy 
paste on their faces to bleach the skin whiter, 
and it does have a very marked effect. Still, 
our love-lorn maiden often does not get the de- 
gree of whiteness she desires, and so leaves some 
of the paste on her skin. It makes her ashy 
pale, but she deems it beauty. The layer of 
paste hardens, and if she moves her features 
it will crack and fall off ; so she sits very stiffly, 
and her expressionless countenance resembles 
that of the image at the village pagoda. 

Her admirer keeps his distance, for her parents 
are somewhere within hearing or sight, and it is 



Of the Biirmans Burmese i2g 








A Posed Courtship 



130 ht the Land of Pagodas 

very improper for him to be too familiar. But 
they talk and laugh, he doing most of it, for 
she is shy; and, too, she must be careful not to 
crack her cosmetic. 

When they have had their visit out, the 
attentive swain rejoins his fellow, and together 
they go to visit the latter 's young lady. While 
the procedure I have described is not by any 
means always followed in every detail, yet it 
is a picture of a custom that prevails among 
the best families. When marriage is settled 
upon, the parents' consent is obtained and the 
dowry arranged. The nuptial ceremony is 
held at the bride's home, and the bridegroom 
pays the expenses of the feast and the presents ; 
for presents are given, not received, by the 
principals at a wedding. It could not be said 
that the marriage is solemnized, for it is strictly 
a social event, not civil nor religious. No priests 
are present. 

In the old days the bride and bridegroom are 
said to have fed each other with a little rice and 
to have given each other a drink of tea; and 
that constituted the essential part of the unit- 
ing of the two. But now even that custom is 
not followed, and the union is cemented by 
the festivities and the general consent of all 
concerned. 



Of the Biirmans Burmese iji 

The youthful couple launch out on married 
life by remaining a few years in the harbor of 
the wife's parental home. And this is a safe 
course, since marriage is entered into very 
commonly when the boy is seventeen or eighteen 
and the girl fifteen or even younger. But when 
he is able to support a separate home they 
break away, and only then attain real maturity. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE LURE IN THE GOSPEL NET 

1WAS comfortably settled in a second-class 
compartment on the evening train north 
out of Rangoon. Hoping that I would not 
have many fellow-passengers to crowd me, at 
least not boresome ones, I spent the spare time 
looking out of the windows at the prospective 
travelers. In the last five minutes before the 
departure of the train, a friendly -looking 
foreigner piled into my snugness with all the 
numerous traps of a moving European bent on 
a long journey. 

He dropped into his seat as the train pulled 
out, and we passed the time of day. 

"How long since you came from America?" 
he asked. 

Now I had been in the country just three 
months, but I wasn't telling anyone about it. 

"What makes you think I came from Ameri- 
ca?" I parried, in my ignorance. 

He laughed good-naturedly. "I knew it as 
soon as you opened your mouth," he said. 
132 



The Lure in the Gospel Net ijj 

And right there I began to learn that an 
experienced traveler can tell very much about 
a man by how he talks, as well as by what 
he says. We were soon conversing pleasantly, 
and he told me that he was a missionary of a 
society doing a large work in Burma. In turn, 
I told him my connections, and, as we became 
better acquainted, of the work I was attempting. 

''An industrial school to teach the Burmans 
how to work!" he ejaculated. "Well, I hope 
you succeed, for the country badly needs such 
institutions; but I fear for your success. Let 
me tell you about our experience; and, by the 
way, there is an interesting little tale connected 
with it." 

I smiled my appreciation of any former 
experience in technical education in Burma, for 
I had heard that there hadn't been any, outside 
of jails and reformatories. So I settled myself 
a little more comfortably on an uncomfortable 
seat, and he began. In substance this is 
what he told me: 

" Several years ago there were two young Ger- 
mans, brothers, connected with a large shipping 
firm with headquarters at Hamburg. One of the 
young men was sent to Bombay to act as agent 
for the firm at that Indian port. The other 
remained in Hamburg. The young fellow in 



JJ4 ^^ t^^^ Land of Pagodas 

India took in the sights at off hours, and 
observed that thousands of httle idol gods were 
sold in the native shops to Hindu worshipers. 
These were fashioned in a crude way by the 
hands of native workmen. He conceived the 
bold idea of having a large number of these 
images "made in Germany" by special process 
and shipped in quantities to India to under-sell 
the local idol market. That's what I call 
business instinct gone to seed. 

"He communicated the scheme to his brother 
in Hamburg, and between them they procured 
capital and started a wholesale idol manufac- 
tory. The first shipment was large, and started 
safely on its way. And just about that time 
the Bombay brother happened into a watch- 
meeting one night in the city, and was con- 
verted. 

" In the midst of his new-found joy he suddenly 
thought of the connection between that idol 
business and the profession of a Christian. 
He decided that the only consistent thing to do 
was to turn down the whole proposition im- 
mediately. He hastily cabled to Hamburg to 
stop the shipment. But it was too late. Then 
he wired to his brother that he could not go 
on with the business, and would not receive 
the shipment. The brother pleaded, threatened, 



The Lure in the Gospel Net 



135 



and stormed in vain. The idols were dumped 
on the wharf at Bombay, and I don't know 
what ever became of them. 

"But we were concerned about what became 




The Burmese are Good Hands at Weaving and Make Excellent Silk Cloth 

of the 3^oung man. He made up his mind to 
stay in the country and join our mission force. 
He was well suited for industrial school work, 
so he was encouraged with good backing to 
start one here in Burma. He planned a farm- 
school, with other industries to follow. Pos- 
sessed of ingenuity and plodding energy, he 
soon had things in fine shape, — good land, water 



ij6 In the Land of Pagodas 

piped to all parts of it, and other improvements. 
His whole scheme was something like yours, 
— but he failed." 

"Why?" I asked. 

"Well, he had to give it up, mainly because 
the Burman does not take kindly to work 
with his hands. He does not connect school 
with work at all. To him an education is a 
means to escape work. Some think the govern- 
ment has encouraged this view of the matter 
by giving a good clerical job to every Burman 
who can use his head. But, in the nature of the 
case, all over the East there is a great demand 
for intellectual ability. The schooled Burman 
becomes a sa yay gyi, — a chief writer. The 
great majority of the people don't see the need 
of industrial education; and those who do are 
perfectly willing that it shall be given to the 
other man's boy. It will go hard with anyone 
who starts something along the line you plan. 
The societies who have worked here for scores 
of years have given it up till the country as a 
whole makes much greater progress toward 
civilized conditions." 

With this, my companion turned to speak with 
another passenger who had boarded the train, 
and I was left to my own thoughts. They 
were not comforting. I was crushed, and did 



The Lure in the Gospel Net i^y 

not care to talk. To this day I do not believe 
that he was trying to discourage me, but he 
felt that I ought to know the truth as he saw 
it, and as experience taught. 

The train roared on through the wide-stretch- 
ing fields, white under the moon, and as I 
lay there and looked out into the hazy tropical 
night, memories of the past three months 
rushed over me like a flood. We had left 
home with our two little ones with the highest 
of hopes. From the time that we broke up till 
we were ready to settle down at our station in 
Burma, six months of wearisome journeying 
and long delays had passed. We had been 
anxious to fit into our new home, and begin 
work. The only available house was a little one 
which we had to rent, in the native part of the 
town. It had an iron roof, which the sun 
turned into the top of a stove. It was unclean, 
inhabited by roaches, mice, lizards, and other 
unpleasant hosts. The surroundings were un- 
sanitary, and swarmed with pariah dogs, crows, 
and dirty children. The smells were sickening. 
When Mrs. Thurber first stepped up to the door 
of our abode-to-be and looked in, she said noth- 
ing. But in a moment she leaned against the 
door-post and burst into tears — just like a 
woman. And, just like a man, I wanted to 
follow her example but didn't dare. 




Remarkably Intricate Wood Carvings Executed l)y Biirmans 



138 



The Lure in the Gospel Net ijg 

Then, just when I had gotten a good start on 
the language, which I was told must be gotten 
in the main the first year or not at all, we were 
told that we must start the school right away, 
or no more money could be solicited. However 
that was, money had ceased to come in on the 
fund. And more, the native custodian of the 
money already gathered had dipped his hand 
into the bag and "borrowed" a large share of 
the cash in hand. There was no help available 
from the mission then; and so we had about 
$150 with which to build an institution. 

And then this. We were planning to make 
the industries the attractive feature of the 
school. We knew that the boys would not be 
drawn by the truths of Christianity; not at 
first. But the trades were to be the lure in the 
gospel net. We deceived no one, nor expected 
to do so ; for the natives generally know what the 
chief purpose of the missionary is. We would do 
just as we agreed, teach trades thoroughly, and 
force no one to accept our views. Yet we would 
all the time hope and pray and work to the end 
that some boys would see in passing the greater 
good of the heart education that Christianity 
affords. 

But if our attraction wouldn't attract, what 
then? We could not hope to compete success- 



140 I?t the Lq^nd of Pagodas 

fully with the schools already established, 
which gave attention to intellectual education 
alone. 

So in this our land of promise, cities of 
hopelessness were being built, walled up to 
heaven, and peopled with giants. And we, 
poor, insignificant Calebs and Joshuas, were 
presuming to hope that they could be subdued. 

Right there on the , train that night was 
fought the battle and was won the victory that 
for me had everything to do with our future 
work. But I did not fight it alone. I merely 
accepted the victory that was gained for me 
by One long ago. I found that I was not dis- 
couraged, only discomfited for a while. And 
it is hoped that the reader will draw the right 
conclusion from this recital; and that is, that 
every worker for God has such experiences 
time and again, when the emotions overtop the 
faith and hope for a little period, after which 
the will to do and dare for God emerges with a 
baptism of strength that knows no defeat. 

We brushed away our tears ; for this was only 
one side of things as they were. There were 
many compensating joys: the new sights to 
see, a genial people to get acquainted with, a 
language to conquer, a consciousness that we 
were greatly needed, a vision to materialize. 



The Lure in the Gospel Net 141 

abundance of hard work to help forget, and 
above all, souls to see accept Christ. 

The obvious first thing was to start some- 
thing to prove that we meant to make good. 
So we rented a large room in an old brick 
building that had stood vacant for some time, 
and opened school. David Hpo Hla and 
Maung Ba Tin, two of our Burmese workers, 
came up from Lower Burma to teach in the 
vernacular. We bought some old benches, a 
table or two; and a washstand served as a 
teacher's desk. Some boys sat on the floor at 
first, but it was largely plaster and dirt, and 
good school work can not be done on the floor. 

Carpentry was the first trade taught, for 
several reasons: I had had some experience in 
woodworking, we needed school furniture right 
away, and of the practical trades the Burman 
has the least objection to it. He has a natural 
ability in wood-carving. We early saw that it 
would not be wise to introduce any modern 
complicated tools or machinery; for we wanted 
to teach them just as they would have to do 
when they left us. The Chinese are the best 
carpenters and cabinet makers in the country; 
so we hired an old Chinese carpenter to let the 
boys look at him work while he made some 
school desks for us. But he couldn't make a 



142 In the Land of Pagodas 

desk without a pattern, and a picture wouldn't 
do. A drawn plan he couldn't get into his 
head at all. So I went to work and made a 
seat group for an example, and after |that he did 
quite well. 




A Corner of One of our First School Rooms with our Home-Made Desks 

About twenty boys attended at the start; 
and soon this number was increased to thirty. 
They were a playful lot, ranging from eight 
years up to twenty-five, and in education they 
varied all the way through the common school 
grades. 

Thus far, all well and good; but we could 



The Lure in the Gospel Net 14J 

not continue long at that rate. There was 
another school in the town conducted by another 
society; and it was large and well located and 
equipped. We did not wish to antagonize it 
in its line of book education and training for 
government service. Our line was industrial 
combined with intellectual. But as soon as all 
the school furniture we could afford was com- 
pleted, we had no more use for the Chinese 
carpenter, for two reasons: first, he couldn't 
teach because he was cranky, and had no idea 
of teaching principles; and he wouldn't make an 
effort to teach because if the boys learned to do 
as well as he did, he would have less chance to 
get work in an overstocked labor market. 
Second, the very small tuition charge that we 
were able to make would not pay his wage, and 
we were not making any product that we could 
sell. 

Finally, all our difficulties resolved them- 
selves into the one of procuring money to buy 
land, build workshops and equip them, and pay 
teachers; that is, to get a fair start at such a 
program, so that something could be manu- 
factured that would make the trades largely 
self-supporting. It was unheard-of to raise any 
large amount of money for Christian schools 
from among the natives of Burma. Yet as we 



144 ^^ ^^^^ Land of Pagodas 

prayed and worked, the thought pressed in 
upon us that we should do something right 
there to get the necessary money. 

So the day came when, with not any more 
faith than we needed, we started our big drive; 
or, since the East can't be driven, perhaps we 
had better call it a big push. Our good brother 
A. W. Steevens, the government prosecutor, 
was an excellent standby, and gave valiant aid. 
Small amounts were raised in various ways, 
but it was felt that the most promising sources 
of supply would be among the merchants of 
Rangoon and in the oil fields of the Irrawaddy; 
the first, because the business men sensed the 
need of the country more than others, and the 
second because it was a prosperous section 
where there were many warm, liberal American 
hearts. Brethren Votaw and Steevens solicited 
the business men in the city and met with 
good success. The money did not come in large 
amounts, but it must be remembered that they 
were soliciting non-Christian men who were not 
at all supposed to be favorable to Christian 
missions. Our hearts bounded with joy when 
we heard that one wealthy Chinese wholesale 
merchant had given i,ooo rupees ($320). 

Then we were ready for the oil country. 
Brother Votaw and I were to make the attack, 



The Lure in the Gospel Net 



^45 



and we were determined to make it a success. 
The trip was not without attractive features, as 
may be understood from a description of the 
situation. 




The First Happy School Family 



Aside from the work of the American mis- 
sionaries, oil-weh drilHng might be called the 
American occupation of Burma. It seems 
strange, yet it is said to be true, that in every 
oil field of the world men from the United 
States superintend the drilling. Mechanics of 
other nationalities can not or will not learn the 
business. It is the only trade that I have ever 
heard of that all other peoples concede is not in 



146 hi the Land of Pagodas 

their line. Hundreds of drillers are brought 
half-way around the world at great expense, are 
paid large salaries, and are given special con- 
cessions, as an absolute necessity to the drain- 
ing of petroleum from Burma's subterranean 
treasure houses. 

Standard Oil has invaded Burma, as every- 
where, but only in the shape of the innocent- 
looking five-gallon can. It is the best oil sold 
in the country, and is indispensable for good 
lamplight, but of course it is most expensive. 
This mighty miracle of dread American trusts 
is looked at askance by English capitalists; and 
every time a tentacle of the great octopus feels 
for a hold in British territory, it is promptly 
cut or circumscribed. So English capital works 
and controls this field. 

The center of interest is on the bank of the 
Irrawaddy at Yenangyaung, about halfway up 
toward Mandalay. There are less-paying lo- 
calities on both sides of the river for many 
miles up and down, but " Bad-smelling- water 
Creek" (the meaning of the Burmese name) 
is the part which is especially well-oiled and oil- 
welled. The field is somewhat off the beaten 
path, and so the world tourists miss it. There 
isn't even a railway, and we approach from 
the south on the broad back of the river. Huge 



The Lure in the Gospel Net 147 

red tanks dotting the hills first greet the view; 
and then there comes into the range of vision 
what at first appears to be a forest of tall, 
bare trees back among the hills. These soon 
resolve themselves into derricks, so numerous 
and close together that they seem to touch 
one another at the bases. Our little launch 
edges up to the bank at the best landing, and 
we are soon bumping along in our bullock-cart 
conveyance by the pumping stations. On dry, 
bare bluff's overlooking the river are perched 
the well-kept and roomy bungalows of the 
officers of the various companies. 

A few miles more, and we are in the midst 
of a lively scene. Many of the readers of this 
know too well, perhaps, the sights and sounds 
and odors of an oil region. I will not, therefore, 
attempt to describe the features common to all 
fields; but some of the characteristic aspects 
will take your attention. 

This particular field is most remarkable be- 
cause it is so small and yet so inexhaustible. 
Within an area no larger than that occupied 
by an ordinary village, there are hundreds of 
wells so close together that there is scarcely 
room to work them. A circle with a radius of 
twenty-one feet is all that can be gotten for 
one site. The sites of the rival companies are 



148 In the Land of Pagodas 

all intermingled, and many wells tap the terri- 
tory of others. This causes much interchange 
of oil below — and words above — -the surface 
before the matter is settled. 

There is much ingenuity displayed by the field 
superintendents in getting first chance and best 
advantage in drawing away oil from adjacent 
territory. But this rivalry sometimes works to 
the disadvantage of all concerned, as the follow- 
ing will illustrate. One of the drillers told us 
that as usual one day he pumped some water 
into his well so that he could draw up in solution 
the sediment that had accumulated by the drill- 
ing; but as fast as it was pumped in, the water 
ran off into the oil sand. This makes no small 
trouble when working with heavy tools at a 
distance of two thousand feet down, and he 
bothered with it for two or three days before he 
discovered what was the matter. Then he hap- 
pened to be talking to a neighboring driller, 
who said in the course of the conversation, 
"I don't know what is the matter with my 
well. I struck water day before yesterday, and 
have been pumping it out ever since, but there 
is no end to it." One was pumping the same 
water out that the other was pumping in. 

The government controls the depth to which 
the drills shall go. When one oil-sand is ex- 



The Lure in the Gospel Net 



149 



hausted, permission is given to go deeper, and 
there is a race to penetrate the next stratum. 
And there is always oil below. This has been 
going on for a period of over thirty years, and 
millions of barrels of oil have been drawn from 
this one locality ; yet still " gushers " are common. 




Wwrking Oil Wells in the Old Way 

Yenangyaung was worked for many years 
before modern machinery was used. In the olden 
time the Burmans dug shallow wells, and with 
bucket and rope drew up the product. Even 
now a few of the old wells are being worked, 
right in among the towering derricks and amid 
the chugging of many steam pumps. These 
primitive wells are now about four hundred 



1^0 hi the Land of Pagodas 

feet deep, and about the width of an ordinary 
water well. A man is let down by a rope, and 
he fills the receptacle, which is drawn to the 
surface by a number of Burmese men and 
women pulling the rope to a certain distance 
from the mouth of the well and coming back 
by turns to get a new hold. Oil obtained in 
this way is usually sold to the large companies 
at about one dollar a barrel. 

Bach Amercan driller has a number of natives 
to do the work while he directs it. Many of 
these Burmese mechanics can manage the drilling 
alone when all goes well, but none seem to learn 
judgment for an emergency. Accidents are 
common, and are costly if not met by expert 
knowledge. 

Here are Americans who have seen the 
world — hardy "boys" who have made the 
rounds of Pennsylvania, Ohio, Illinois, Texas, 
and California, who have "fished" for tools in 
the wells of Roumania and Russia, heard the 
bullets whistle in the anti-Armenian riots in 
Batum, and drilled for water on the arid plains 
of west Australia. They are stalwart men; 
rather rough, as drillers go, but withal good- 
hearted. The work and the region do not 
supply much that would soften character. 
They work on a three-year contract that pro- 



ij2 In the Land of Pagodas 

vides that they must not bring wives with 
them. A few wives of higher-wage men are 
there, but few women can hve there and be 
satisfied, for there is Httle to attract. 

Set down in that bleak place and compelled 
to pay close attention to business, with only 
five days in a year vacation, in the face of 
every temptation and vice that the Orient can 
bring to bear, the men do not find conditions 
conducive to straight living. No missionary 
organization is working among them. In spite 
of their independence and bravado they are 
"as sheep without a shepherd. " There is about 
the place an atmosphere of no-one-knows-nor- 
cares, and many a man goes bad and never 
reaches home again. 

But there is a brighter side. The minimum 
wage is one hundred and fifty dollars a month, 
and each man has half a large bungalow, rent 
free. They have a "messing allowance," which 
enables many to save their whole salaries. 
Each man has a pony, and they frequently 
get out for a short hunt in the jungle. They 
have subscribed for and built a pleasant club- 
house, where there is plenty of reading and 
entertainment provided. Some of the men who 
have been ambitious and have been careful 
of their habits and health have risen to better 



The Lure in the Gospel Net ifij 

positions, and are able, after being in the field 
for fifteen years, to retire on a comfortable 
income. 

We found nearly every man we met hospitable 
and generous to a fault. Most of them are glad 
to give to any mission enterprise. In the course 
of several visits among them we received from 
their liberality a large part of the fund we 
were raising. 

All together ever seven thousand rupees 
were donated in Burma for the school. As 
soon as the first money was in hand we bought 
25 acres of second-class land just outside the 
town of Meiktila. It was in small pieces and 
belonged to nine different owners. Within a 
few days after the purchase, our Chinese 
carpenter was beginning the creation of a 
temporary workshop. We could not "hustle 
the East," and the work of building went for- 
ward at a snail's pace. "Labor troubles" that 
Europe and American never know caused tedi- 
ous delays. But at last, two years after we 
arrived, the first building was ready for use. 
It was built of teak wood, the best in the coun- 
try, with a cement floor, red tile roof, and sub- 
stantial bamboo matting for walls; and it 
measured thirty- two by seventy- two feet. 

It wasn't a pretentious affair, not very 



The Lure in the Gospel Net 755 

beautiful, but to us it meant achievement. 
Our vision had taken shape materially, though 
the battle of principles was yet to come. Our 
boys had taken hold nobly, and had disappointed 
prophecies of their being too lazy to work. 
When say a gyi ("chief teacher" — the mission- 
ary) said, "Come on, boys," they came; and 
"coolie work" was no disgrace. 

The holiday on which we moved out of the 
hot, close, dirty, smelly town schoolroom to 
our new quarters on the fresh-air hill rising 
gently above Meiktila Lake, was a red-letter 
day. We celebrated with a house-cooling, not 
a house-warming. 



CHAPTER IX 

THE TONGUE AND THE SCRIPT 

THE missionary who tries to get the heart 
of a heathen without first getting his 

tongue, ends by getting his shoulder — 
and that cold. The natives of Burma are just 
about as much impressed by the message of a 
foreigner speaking in his own tongue as we would 
be if an Arab should visit America and jabber 
at us Mohammedan prayers in the speech of 
the desert, or try to convert us to belief in the 
Koran scriptures by speaking through an in- 
terpreter. The languages of eastern Asia present 
an appalling obstacle to the propagation of the 
gospel by Occidental peoples. 

When one first comes into contact with the 
people he is impressed by the glaring and ludi- 
crous mistakes of the native when trying to 
express himself in English. We laughed heartily 
and knowingly at the blunders they made, 
and failed utterly to temper our glee with the 
thought that our cumbersome attempts at the 
Burmese would be far more laughable to them. 
They laughed last. 

156 



• The Tongue and the Script i$7 

In passing, it is well to know that the mis- 
sionary must get the laughing habit, if he 
hasn't it already. Not indulgence in the frivol- 
ous giggling of the sentimentalist, nor in the 
forced laugh of the maker of jokes ; but the really 
funny things in life do not come too often for 
our good, and when they do it is well to give way 
to a diaphragm-shaking laugh. If anywhere 
"a merry heart doeth good like a medicine," 
it doeth it in the mission field. 

The humor of the language blunderer is al- 
ways a cause for mirth. We can all laugh at one 
another's expense in this, for every one who 
tries to learn a foreign tongue will invariably 
carry the idioms of his mother tongue over 
into the new language, and of course make many 
ludicrous mistakes. In a country like Burma, 
where so many languages are spoken, and all 
persons with any claim to education have a 
trial at English in their own way, mistakes are 
so common that they cease to attract notice. 
However, many a time an Englishman or an 
American has occasion to smile at the efforts 
of the one with whom he is talking. And 
' although the native is usually too polite to laugh 
in our faces when we torture his language, he 
has a quiet burst of humor over it when we 
are not around. 



1^8 In the Land of Pagodas 

A man who prided himself on his abihty t\ 
speak Enghsh ghbly, when ordering a pair ol 
shoes specified that they must be broad- toed, 
for he had "thorns between his fingers," (corns 
on his toes). But this is an exception. Usually 
the correct thought is conveyed, but the idiom 
is queer. The following are samples of letters 
we have often received from parents of the 
boys attending our school: — 

"Dear Sir: If my son appears late at your 
school again without a chit (note) of recom- 
mendation, kindly slap him as he deserves. 
For which kind favor I will ever pray. " 

Another parent requested that her boy be 
excused because of "domestic troubles," which 
troubles were explained to be the cooking of 
the rice for dinner. 

The teacher urged that specific reasons be 
given for absence, and the following was pre- 
sented: "San Po got a sore without cause on 
the left side of his right knee. Pain as it was, 
he tried his best to attend his class till Thursday, 
after which he was entirely confined to his 
bed. Hardly had it recovered before an eye- 
sore made its appearance, which was the real 
cause of his continued confinement during the 
whole of last week. Therefore, on the strength 



The Tongue and the Script 



159 



of his pains I most respectfully beg you to 
excuse him. " 

"Sir, — I am Maung Pu pupil of you write 
you a letter for few lines. The bee stings to my 




The Girls' School at Meiktila, Opened in Recent Year« 



face for this reason please give one day leave, 
sir." 

A peddler came to our friend's door. He 
was a jolly fellow with a broad smile congealed 
on his face. In the course of a bantering con- 
versation he was asked his name. He was very 
proud to say that he had an English name. 



i6o In the Land of Pagodas 

It was "Cheap Jack." In fact, a number of 
small business men flaunt this name in front 
of their shops. 

The public letter writer is very common, and 
is often seen sitting under his umbrella in a 
quiet corner. For a nominal fee he writes for 
those who are aspiring after respectability or 
are seeking favors from the higher classes. 
Usually he does a thriving business. If his 
English is just a smatter, no matter. Perhaps 
he has the F. M. (failed matriculation) degree 
from the university of Calcutta; and capital 
letters after one's name are enough to sub- 
stantiate any claim to knowledge in the eyes 
of a large class of his customers. 

A friend of ours tried to re-hire a servant, 
whom he had discharged because he had to 
leave town. The servant now held a good 
position and was loath to leave it, although 
he liked his former master. So he hired a 
scribe to write the following consoling note: 
"Dear Sir you salaam, by Rama Because to 
write this letter your letter got it me and then 
reading your letter I am very glad to see. What 
can i do sir My sahib cannot go from here I 
am very sorry if not I had come there I cannot 
come very Long please don't sorry I request 
to you." 



The Tongue and the Script i6i 

A native Christian, when writing to his 
teacher, sought, for variety's sake, a synonym 
of preserve, and rounded off his epistle with, 
"May kind Providence pickle you." 

Signboards make interesting reading, and it 
is worth a trip around Rangoon to discover 
new creations. Over a diminutive barber shop 
is one bidding us "Well Come, My Dear." 
A rising young doctor blazons his trade with 
the shingle, "Maung Loo Galay, vaccinated 
every Thursday." A petty merchant gives 
promise of sticking to the voyage when he 
announces himself, "Baboo Khan, Syrup Sailor." 
A beggar carries this enlightening inscription: — 

"Gentlemen and plea 
se mercyupon this 
poor helpless andl 
ame man ladies." 

A Chinese whiskey seller has a large sign 
with the picture of a bottle at the side, and the 
words, "Ah Foke, licensed to be drunk on the 
premises or removed." 

On a bookstall is: "Books writing paper 
stationery pencils for the schoolboys all can get. 
And on a restaurant appears: "Meat, fish, 
eggs, curry, palow rice, all have got." 

The following in front of a signboard painter's 



i62 In the Land of Pagodas 

place gives evidence of a very peaceful alliance: 
"Iv'entente cordiale of brains, wit, art and 
energy in reproducing, designing, printing and 
engraving." 

A quack advertises a preparation which is 
so powerful that it will make water run uphill, 
and is guaranteed to produce a light-com- 
plexioned baby "even if the parents are the 
darkest black. " 

To return to the language of the country: 
The most difficult part of the study of the 
Burmese is the first part. And this is well, 
because at first the new-comer goes at it with 
the most enthusiasm. Long and steady appli- 
cation is absolutely necessary in mastering the 
rudiments. The usual initiation into the mys- 
teries requires from six to ten hours a day for 
the first year's work ; in fact, all the time that the 
brain can do good work. A person should have 
no other work or responsibilities other than 
what would serve as a change or recreation. 
We would judge that this first year's work 
would equal about three year's foreign language 
study as given in American J schools. At the 
end of this period one is expected to read 
anything in the Gospel of John, translate at 
sight the first four chapters, spell correctly, 
name any common object, and converse freely 



The Tongue and the Script i6j 

in simple conversation. This sounds easy, 
but there is a long and weary road to it. During 
the second year, half the time is spent on 
study, and after being two years in the field 
the learner is able to take the second examina- 
tion, which is as far as most candidates go, 
though then they are usually far from a mastery 
of the Burmese. These Mongolian tongues 
have absolutely no connection with, or likeness 
to, the languages of the West. 

The missionary, of course, can work for souls 
more or less indirectly from the first. At 
first thought it seems almost a waste of time to 
spend so much time learning to talk; but we 
must keep in mind that he is not learning- 
Burmese only, but also Burma and the Burman, 
all of which is necessary to success. 

8^coo(^cooS(^u^D950oo5j|^oDoo£Go:^o6;(^o£(o)j^63ao3o5o<^§«^ 
£J)Goq)D£:|c8y33coo6o^c^6si cof>5^o^033oooSc^<^6:ajjcoScoooo^ 

The Beauty of the Native Script 

A prominent factor in the pronunciation of 
Burmese is betelnut juice; for many of the 
sounds seem to be modified to suit a mouthful 



164 In the Land of Pagodas 

of kun, the national chew. The language in 
writing looks like soap bubbles and horse shoes 
playing leap-frog. It is read from top to bottom 
and from left to right, as in English, but in 
handwriting the Burman writes each letter 
backward. The sound of the spoken Burmese 
does not roll off the tongue as smoothly as its 
written representaton seems to roll across the 
page. It does not strike the ear as mellifiuously 
as does the Hindustini. Really, there is a lack 
of euphony, but the speaker improves on this 
by corrupting certain sounds and filling in 
awkward places with meaningless syllables. 

Monosyllables are the rule, and exceptions to 
this are compounds. The alphabet consists of 
thirty- two letters, each with a sound of its 
own; but certain appendages are added to all 
letters, which multiply the sounds into the 
hundreds. With a few exceptions the sounds 
are similar to those in English, the tendency 
being to have no vowel sounds at the beginning 
of a word nor consonant sounds at the end. 
Many of our English words end in ng, and many 
Burmese words begin with this combination. 
F'oreigners generally find it difiicult to say nga 
(fish). To be exact, words do end in consonant 
sounds, but only half of their full value in 
English is pronounced in Burmese. For in- 



The Tongue and the Script 165 

stance, when we say hit, at the last expulsion 
of breath we let the tongue drop from the roof 
of the mouth and the air is expelled through 
nearly closed teeth; but the Burman says it 
without dropping the tongue or expelling the 
breath. Try saying it as he does. 

Compared to the number who try, few 
foreigners learn Burmese well ; and the same can 
be said of Burmans learning English. One can 
absorb the common street usage of Hindustani 
in the East, just by often hearing ear-catching 
expressions of it. But Burmese "goes in one 
ear and out the other" without an accident. 

There is no common greeting word in the 
Burmese language. The native of India says 
"Salaam," which means "Peace be with you. 
But "Salaam" does duty for, "Good morning, 
"Thank you," "Bon voyage," "Good-by, 
"Come again," "Welcome," "You are right, 
"My respects to you," "Good afternoon, 
"Good evening," and "Good night." But the 
Burman contents himself with a smile in pass- 
ing, an "Are you well?" when he comes, and an 
"I will go" when he goes. 

There is much to be learned about the ex- 
pression of the ideas of a people by the way 
they word their proverbs. Truth is the same 



t66 



In the Land of Pagodas 



the world round, but the similes with which it 
is expressed often differ. Here are some Bur- 




Boys at the Monastery School 

mese proverbs with the corresponding English 
ones : — 

In a forest of pith the castor-oir plant is king. 
Among the blind the one-eyed man is king. 

It is only where there is an elevation that a 
shadow is cast. There is no smoke without 
some fire. 

Should the front part of the house be hot, 
the back part will be uncomfortable. When 
chief persons disagree, there is unhappiness for 
ah. 



The Tongue and the Script idy 

Playing a lute near a buffalo. Casting pearls 
before swine. 

When two buffaloes fight, the grass between 
them can not prevent it. On two horns of a 
dilemma. 

Day does not dawn because the hen crows. 
This is said to an interfering, officious woman. 

You can't straighten a dog's tail by threading 
it through a tube. You can't reform a scoundrel. 

Though the dog flea may jump, he raises no 
dust. This is said to little people who try to 
injure big ones. 

Though the hen may cackle all day, she lays 
but one egg. What will be, will be. 

Teaching the king of the crocodiles the water 
business. Carrying coals to Newcastle. 

Every bird is as beautiful as the vulture. As 
good fish are in the sea as ever came out of it. 

Iron destroys and rusts itself. Man his own 
enemy. 

In the following rhyme I have put a few of 
the idioms which are peculiar to the Burm.ese 
language : — 

A "little man" is Burmese term for hoy; 

His " stomach's pleasant " when he's full of joy; 

His "life's no good" when he is pained or sick; 

He says "quick, quick," when we'd say very 
quick. 



i68 In the Land of Pagodas 

Our chairs to him are simply "foreign seats"; 
He "finds" the man with whom by chance he 

meets; 
When he is angry, then his "heart is bad"; 
His "stomach's httle" when he's very sad. 

He has "arrived" when "he has seen a place; 
For Never mind, he says, "There is no case." 
A "devil killer" is a gun that shoots; 
He "drinks his cigarette" and "rides his 
boots. " 

When mtoneyless, he "has not brought his 

pice"; 
He says "too nice" when he means very nice; 
"Talk words" is just his way to entertain; 
A "fire carriage" designates a train. 



mS'- 




She Sells (ustani Apples 



169 



CHAPTER X 

FRUITS OF THE GROUND 

AvS WHEN a Burman thinks dinner he thinks 
rice, so when he thinks farming he thinks 
the same article — that substantial grain- 
food of three-fourths of the world's people. 
And because to the other fourth rice suggests 
only occasional soup-stock, breakfast food, and 
raisin pudding, that other fourth has something 
economical and appetizing to learn from the 
rice-eaters. 

The crop is planted everywhere in the bottom- 
land mud puddles and on the upland hillside 
terraces; and there is a dry land variety also. 
The rich, wavy green of the limitless stretches 
of the paddy-fields of Lower Burma affords a 
charming background for many a lovely view. 
The cultivation of rice is primitive and simple. 
The seed is sown thickly in small beds first. 
The fields are divided by low earth ridges 
into irregular patches at slightly differing levels, 
the better to control the water supply. These 
patches are flooded with water, and stirred 
17c 



Fruits of the Ground I'ji 

with a crude plow to a soupy cousistency. 
When the plants are large enough they are set 
out by hand in the standing water, — -a tedious 
task, when one considers that they are set as 
close together as wheat is usually drilled. While 
the crop grows, the care of it is a matter of 
keeping the water at a proper level. It is reaped 
with a sickle. A mowing machine would mire 
in the soft ground. The threshing is done by 
flailing or trampling, and the paddy thus pro- 
duced looks much like oats as fed to horses. 
The husk is commonly removed by pounding 
the grain on a stone with a large, hammer- 
like affair worked by the weight of the body. 
Long before some ingenious American pro- 
duced " puffed rice, " by " blowing it from guns, " 
the hill-tribes of Burma had been puffing rice 
for centuries — without the use of "guns, " which 
is more wonderful still. On market day in the 
hill-country a little Burmese woman will sit 
down beside a pot of boiling oil, take a handful 
of cooked rice with which a little sticky liquid 
has been mixed, mould it into patties, take 
it between two sticks, and souse it up and down 
in the hot oil. In less than a minute it is puffed 
rice, "blown to eight times its normal size"; 
and with a little salt added it makes a tasty, 
crisp biscuit to eat out of hand. 



iy2 



In the Land of Pagodas 



But the Burman regales himself with some- 
thing else in the line of natural foods besides 
rice. There are a few other grains raised, corn 
principally, but legumes and vegetables abound 





Threshing Rice by the Tramping of Water Buffaloes 



Fruits of the Ground lyj 

in their season. Peanuts are plentiful and 
cheap, though of an inferior grade. Tomatoes 
grow small. Potatoes can be grown well only 
in the higher lands. The earth is hoed into 
hills, and some wood or leaves is burned in 
each hill before planting. This is to kill the 
grubs and insects; and it is a sample of the 
terrific fight the cultivators have to prevent 
animal and insect life from destroying the 
crops. With all their work the tubers produced 
remind one too much of marbles in size and 
shape. 

The vegetables peculiar to the tropics thrive : 
yams, artichoke, okra, brinjal (like egg-plant), 
and many other unnamed-in-English garden 
products that go well in a boiled dinner. Burma 
needs a great genius of cookery to discover 
and invent preparations of native vegetables to 
suit the taste of the foreigner. 

Fruits are abundant, — yellow, red, and green 
bananas; pineapples, cocoanuts, oranges, limes, 
custard apples, guavas, papayas (pronounced 
pah-pah-yas) , jack fruits, mango-steens, dorians, 
and so on deliciously. 

On our first long walking trip in the Shan 
Hills one hot season, we came suddenly upon 
some bushes that hung over the road and were 
weighted down with what looked at a distance 



174 I'^ ^l^^ Land of Pagodas 

like little yellow flowers. What was our sur- 
prise on reaching them to see yellow rasp- 
berries in such super-abundance that after we 
had eaten all we could, and had filled what we 
had to carry them in, we passed on with the 
regret that we had done them an injustice. 
Farther up, we found larger and more luscious 
black ones to heighten our delight. We hadn't 
seen a raspberry for years. 

There are five of the fruits in the list just 
given that are very common and well tasted in 
the tropics, but which scarcely ever find their 
way into colder climes, obviously because they 
will not grow there, will not keep long enough to 
be shipped in a ripe condition, and may not be 
shipped green as bananas are. At the risk 
of failing utterly, I shall endeavor to picture to 
the reader's mind some conception of these 
five delectable fruit treasures of the tropics. 
I am positively assured that I shall offend 
some who already know the fruits, since my 
descriptions, in their opinions, will be wrong 
or entirely inadequate; for who can describe a 
flavor? But for the sake of satisfying curiosity 
I shall try. Those who know may skip this. 
And those who don't know may practise a 
good drill in imagination. 

The dorian — to begin with the one which 



Fruits of the Ground ly^ 

the novice would rather not have included at 
all — is a fruit with an atmosphere, so much so 
that it preempts the air-space for fifty feet 
around it with an odor that disgraces description. 
A dorian can't be hidden — except in a vacuum ! 
The first sniff of it a respectable nose gets 
is suggestive of something in the advanced 
stages of decay (to put it mildly) ; and yet it is 
a perfectly good fruit that has a right to atten- 
tion, and odoriferously demands the recognition 
of that right by everyone with a sense of smell. 
It grows on a tree, and is about the shape of a 
lemon and the size of a large coconut. The 
color is green- turning-yellow, and there are small 
spines on its rind. Most of its bulk is made up 
of pith; but embedded in this are a few large, 
hard, brown seeds; and surrounding these seeds 
there is a layer about a quarter of an inch 
thick of soft, creamy substance which is the 
hidden treasure of the dorian lover. Of course 
the real proving is in the tasting, however sure 
one may be that it is in the smelling; and the 
taster usually holds his nose in the first trial 
in order to brave it with any degree of' olfactory 
comfort. And it tastes — like cooked, rotten 
onions; that is, if we subtract the peculiar 
dorian flavor that goes with it, for which there 
is no simile adequate. And — that is, again — 



176 



In the Land of Pagodas 



it tastes like this at first. But right here is the 
pecuHar part of it. While the smell is dis- 
gusting and the taste is almost as bad, yet 




Coconuts at their Prime 



Fruits of the Ground I'/'j 

there is something about it that bids you come 
again. And if you are sensible you will come 
again. The first time you loathe it, the second 
time you tolerate it, the third time you want it, 
and the fourth time you can't get long without 
it. Sounds like a stimulant or a narcotic, 
doesn't it? Yet it is neither, and not in any 
way harmful. It is amusing to see the old palate 
at it going through the smack-lip operation, and 
at the same time a new arrival almost nauseated 
over the same innocent-looking fruit. It is eas^r 
to start an argument at any time in any company 
over the taste of dorian, i 

Dorian's a fruit in such a loathing held. 
To be detested needs but to be smelled ; 
But, eaten oft, it ceases to annoy; 
At first wx gag, submit, and then' enjoy. 

When guavas are mentioned, think of pears; 
for perhaps the guava comes nearer being like 
a pear than like any other temperate zone fruit. 
More rounded than a pear in shape, it has a 
somewhat similar skin, and also resembles it in 
size and in the nature of its seeds. The edible 
part has the woody, grainy texture of a poor 
pear, is rather juiceless and slightly sweet, but 
not tart. 

When we first disembarked at Bombay we 



178 In the Land of Pagodas 

were mistreated to a guava to eat as part of 
our lunch. I would just as readily have relished 
a raw potato. I remember that on first tasting 
it I thought that perhaps at one time in the 
remote past it had been a fairly desirable fruit; 
but that at least my specimen had very much 
deteriorated, as any fruit will do by poor culti- 
vation; and that a mild dose of stomach bitters 
had been injected into it. But such is a guava 
— raw. However, it redeems itself. The proof 
is*dn the preparation of it. Slice it, and let it 
stand in sugar and water for a few hours, and 
you have something equal to sliced raw peaches. 
Cook it, and it makes a sauce to suit the taste 
of the most fastidious. 

We do not know why a custard-apple should 
be called an apple, unless because it isn't at all 
like one. Or maybe it is for the same reason that 
a pineapple is called an apple, whatever reason 
that is. And right here we have the likeness. It 
develops on the same lines as a pineapple. In 
size and shape like a short, fat pine cone, it 
grows from a central core at its base. Instead 
of the spines and tough rind of the pineapple 
it has roughened, soft, green lobes on its surface. 

The whole inside is edijble ; and is eaten by 
breaking the fruit open, and supping it out 
with a spoon. Custard is the word for it; 



Fruits of the Ground 



179 



for it has that appearance and consistency, 
with the seeds about the soft cone resembhng 
raisins, except that they are hard. The flavor 




Climbins the Toddy Palm to Gel the Juice from which is Made 
the Favorite Burmese Beverage 



i8o In the Land of Pagodas 

is not pronounced; it is sweetish, but not tart. 
Perhaps warmed vanilla ice cream would de- 
scribe it. 

Of papayas we will begin by stating that they 
are like muskmelons — and then tell how they 
are not like them. The papaya grows on a 
tree, and not on a vine — a tree that, like the 
famous mustard plant of the parable, becomes 
great from a small seed in a short time. During 
the second season from the planting of the seed, 
under favorable conditions (one of which is 
plenty of water), it reaches a height of ten 
feet, with a trunk diameter of three inches, and 
at this age will mature fruit. The wood is very 
soft, and the plant does not do well after the 
first few seasons. It belongs to the palm family, 
and has a tuft of long leaf -fronds at the top, 
with the fruit clustering about the stem just 
beneath these leaves. 

The papaya has the form of a lemon or a 
pear, varies in size from that of a large potato 
to that of a hubbard squash, and has a smooth, 
green rind that turns slightly yellow when ripe. 
On the inside the meat is arranged just like that 
of a muskmelon, and is the same color and 
degree of firmness. There is the same hollow 
in the center, but the seeds are altogether 
different — ^half the size of a pea, black, and bitter 
to the taste. 



Fruits of the Ground i8i 

The flavor of this refreshing fruit is very 
like that of the cantaloupe, with a little bitter 
added. This last seems to be against the like- 
ableness of the fruit at first, but one grows not 
to notice it. In fact, it has certain curative 
properties for some maladies, and medicines are 
compounded from it. Perhaps there is no more 
healthful food-fruit known in the tropics than 
papayas. The trees bear nearly the whole 
year round, and the fruit is quite cheap in price. 
It takes its place with the cool shower and the 
breathing exercise as a whetting stimulant to 
begin the day. 

The queen of the tropical fruits is the mango. 
There are many varieties — as many as of apples ; 
but whether long and slim, or short and fat; 
green or red or yellow-with-a-pink-cheek, fibrous 
or pulpy, the mango takes the prize. The tree 
is large and symmetrical, and is among the best 
for shade and ornament. As a denizen of the 
front lawn it calls for no apologies. 

In size like an average potato, the shape 
of the fruit is like a navy bean slightly side- 
flattened. There is just one seed, embedded in 
the center, and formed like an elongated lima 
bean. But the most attractive part is between 
the seed and the skin. Stringy with sweet- 
potato stringiness, tart with^emon sour, sweet- 



i82 In the Land of Pagodas 

ened to perfection, with the juiciness of the 
Bartlett pear out-juicified, it tastes Hke — a man- 
go ! Incomparable ! 

It is eaten by cutting off sHces, or by cutting 
it in two, and resorting to the use of a spoon. 
Finger bowls come handy. But, not to mention 
table-manners, there is a more satisfactory way : 
Put a dozen mangoes in a large basin, secure a 
sharp knife, roll up your sleeves, and go at it — 
stopping only when the juice drips off your 
elbows. You will begin with a smile, end with a 
laugh, and conclude that if there is any fruit 
better than mangoes it is more mangoes. 



CHAPTER XI 

THE BEASTS THAT PERISH 

Elephants 

THE impression prevails in many countries 
that the chief use of the elephant is to 
look big, to carry around the reputation 
of being the bulkiest of land animals. But 
it would indeed be a pity if such mountains of 
bone and muscle could not be harnessed at 
least to lean against the world's work and help 
to make it move. To hundreds of the tame 
elephants in Burma, life is more than a circus 
or a zoo. Their deliberate movements and 
loosely hung skin often deceive one into think- 
ing that they are awkward and clumsy; but 
rather, they are capable of moving quickly, and 
of performing work which requires skill, in- 
telligence, and delicacy. In this "land of the 
white elephant" there are still thousands of 
these beasts (all black), the wild ones roaming 
in herds in the jungles, browsing upon the foli- 
age, and sporting at the favorite baths in the 
rivers. Those in captivity are used principally 
by the large lumber companies, gathering and 

183 





a 5 




.5 H 



The Beasts that Perish i8j 

piling teakwood logs in the forests. The Karen 
people own many of them, and are expert 
in their handling. Their value ranges from 
two thousand to four thousand dollars each. 

A touching story is told of one of these huge 
log rollers which recently died in Rangoon. 
His keeper had been with him for many years; 
and in his old age, though blind, the affectionate 
beast was very devoted to the man. As his 
last moments approached, the great fellow lay 
upon the ground and swung his trunk around 
as if reaching for something. The keeper knew 
what he wanted and came nearer. The trunk 
gently wrapped him round and drew him 
closer in loving embrace, while tears gushed from 
the eyes of both man and beast. In this atti- 
tude the huge body breathed its last. Those 
who saw it say this was a most affecting scene. 

It is often necessary in lumbering operations 
to move these docile animals long distances to 
other parts of the country. They walk when 
possible, of course, but bodies of water present 
obstacles not easily overcome. Sometimes they 
are transferred from the wharf to the deck 
of the ship by means of a derrick. Elephants 
can swim the rivers even though they do not 
look as if th^y could, but they are likely to be 
very independent and obstinate. At one time 



i86 



In the Land of Pagodas 



we saw a novel way of getting a herd across 
the Sal ween River. 

We had been doing some prospecting in the 




If he but Lean Against the Collar That Log Will Come 



The Beasts that Perish iSy 

Karen country, and had returned the previous 
evening to the head of stream navigation at 
Shwegun. The Sal ween is one of the longest 
rivers in the world, but it can not be navigated 
far because of numerous falls in its lower course. 
At Shwegun the stream was about half a mile 
wide at low water, the time we were there. 
The sixty miles to the sea is traveled in a day 
by little two-deck steam launches about seventy- 
five feet in length. We were on board all night, 
due to start downstream at 9 A. M. the next 
day. But at daylight the boat started up- 
stream. We were surprised, but soon saw the 
reason. In a few minutes we arrived at a place 
on the river where a high cla}^ bank was topped 
by forest trees ; and among them stood a herd of 
twenty-one elephants, many of them towering 
giants with long tusks. A crowd of Burmese 
and Karans stood on the bank — early comers 
to see the show. 

At the water's edge stood the first victim — 
a huge fellow whose small eyes blinked dubiously 
at the obvious prospect of a forced bath. He 
was fastened by the forefeet to two firmly set 
posts. A heavy rope was passed from the 
chain holding his feet together to the stern 
of the steamboat. A tin float, shaped like an 
ordinary harbor buoy, but only about three 



i88 hi the Land of Pagodas 

feet in diameter, was fastened on his back to 
help keep him on the surface. His keeper took 
the usual seat back of his ears. The signal was 
given, and the boat started across the river, 
soon pulling the rope taut. At this critical 
moment the fastenings were loosed from the 
posts, the driver gave a last prod before making 
a wild leap for the bank, and Mr. Elephant was 
drawn down the slippery incline into the water. 
He trumpeted loudly with fear, and fought 
desperately to hold back and regain the bank; 
but steam power triumphed, and he was towed 
with ever increasing swiftness into deep water. 
When beyond his depth, he disappeared en- 
tirely, only the float telling his whereabouts; 
and even it was dragged under at times. 
Then suddenly his trunk appeared with a snort, 
and, waving about wildly, quickly took on a 
snakelike curve and seemed to point an accus- 
ing finger at us as we stood at the stern of the 
steamer. Then the huge body rose and thrashed 
the water into foam as it rolled from side to 
side and over, struggling to get free. Again 
it disappeared as if to seek the river bed for a 
foothold, only to reappear and rest content to be 
dragged rapidly along near the surface, with the 
water pouring over the gigantic head as it 
pours over a smooth rock in a rapid river. 



The Beasts' that Perish i8q 

Soon the opposite bank was reached, which was 
sandy and shallow far out. As the launch could 
not approach very near, the elephant was left 
for a minute floundering in about fifteen feet 
of water. Meanwhile a Burmese racing boat 
full of men had paddled at top speed with the 
driver from the other bank. Now they ap- 
proached the big fellow cautiously, and at a 
favorable moment the driver adroitly jumped 
from the prow of the canoe onto the elephant's 
head. Hastily setting free the float, he urged 
the beast toward the bank with peculiar twitch- 
ings of his knees back of the big ears; while 
this was being done, the rope was carried to 
the bank, and a number of men exerted their 
puny strength to tow him in. And he seemed 
to have no power nor inclination to resist. 

The whole herd of twenty-one was taken over 
in the same manner. This way of doing it may 
seem cruel, and some men engaged in the 
business think it is. But the animals looked 
none the worse for it, and some seemed actually 
to enjoy it. We could understand how they 
might if their forefeet had been free. 

One of them, which was so unfortunate as not 
to have a float at his back, went entirely under 
as soon as he reached deep water, and stayed 
there till the other side was nearly gained. 



igo 



In the Land of Pagodas 



We could tell by the length and angle of the rope 
that he must have been about twenty-five feet 
down. As time passed, and he did not come up 
for air, and seemed to hang as a dead weight, 
the owners became alarmed, and there was 




This is the Way Elephants are Loaded into Ships 



much shouting and ado; but beyond an extra 
powerful spout when his trunk appeared, he 
acted the same as did the others. 

Another gigantic tusker v\^as determined after 
the first outrage not to submit tamely to such 
indignities. When his driver gained his back 
and tried to prod and urge him to land, he 



The Beasts that Perish igi 

wouldn't go. Instead, he headed for the middle 
of the river. All the shouting and pulling by 
the men on the shore hadn't the least effect. 
He reached the current and swam rapidly down- 
stream. The driver was game and held his seat, 
but he might as well have been a fly. The 
launch gave chase, when there was no other 
way, and after an exciting few minutes the 
runaway was rounded up half a mile down. 
He was so. tired when he finally landed that he 
could scarcely walk. 

Our boat was so late in getting down the river 
that we missed the train for Rangoon, but 
the sight was worth the sacrifice. 

Crows 

Ask any traveler who has been in India or 
Burma what sound is the most common and 
universal, and he will tell you the caw of a 
crow. With all their millions of people, these 
lands actually seem to have more crows than 
human beings. They flock like sparrows in 
both town and country, and flap themselves into 
every view. 

The crows of the East are in size about half- 
way between the large crow of America and the 
blackbird. They are prolific and long-lived; 
and, being ever alert and quick of movement. 



IQ2 In the Land of Pagodas 

they are not easily destroyed. It is said that a 
few years ago they became so numerous in some 
places as to be an extreme nuisance; so the 
government offered a small bounty for their 
heads. Then the natives began raising them in 
captivity in such large numbers that it was a 
paying industry; so this method of extermina- 
tion had to be abandoned. 

But the crows are one of the greatest blessings 
of the country. They are its chief scavengers, 
and are worth more than a thousand doctors 
and sanitary inspectors. There is nothing that 
forms a breeding place for germs that crows will 
scorn as food. In the land of filth producers 
the crows are filth destroyers. There is no 
doubt that should these blackwings be cut off, 
epidemics would gather a much larger toll of 
human life than they do at present. It is 
impossible to estimate their true value as 
scavengers. Because of this, and also for reli- 
gious reasons, attempts are seldom made to 
kill them. 

In the outlying districts they may be seen 
by the hundreds, tumbling over one another in 
the furrows as they follow the plow to eat 
the exposed grubs. They ride on the backs 
of the patient and slow-moving bullocks and 
buffaloes, deftly keeping out of the way of the 



The Beasts that Perish zpj 

swishing tails, and snapping up the insects that 
swarm about the beasts. They form a mutual 
benefit society with a cow; and as bossy lies 
quietly in the shade, chewing her cud, they 
perch on her nose or ears and pick at the insects 
and vermin, only having to look sharp when the 
bovine resents a too-familiar intrusion on her 
nasal or auditory property rights. 

As soon as a train stops at a station, the 
crows alight with impunity on the cars, and 
make common cause with their fellow scaven- 
gers, the pariah dogs, in seeing which can be 
first to grab the discarded food thrown from 
the windows. Many a battle royal is fought 
between these two for the prize. The dogs 
have the strength but the crows have the wings 
and the wits. When the pariah gets there 
first, often the crows will unite in a body to 
attack him. And what strategy! Some ap- 
proach from behind and persistently nag till he 
makes a dash to drive them off. Then, like a 
flash, those in front pounce on the morsel and 
are away with it. 

For all the good they do, it is difficult to 
have patience with them about the house. Ever 
cawing and ever watchful, they perch at the 
edge of the safety zone about the back veranda. 
They are thieves of the bold bandit variety. A 

7 



ig4 In the Land of Pagodas 

caw, a swoop, a grab, and a swift retreat are the 
order and method of their predatory raids. 
Let the housewife or the servant relax vigilance, 
and through the window conies Mr. Crow, and 
with a low swish of wings is onto the dining 
table. There is a rattle and a bang as a dish 
falls, and a rush to the rescue reveals broken 
glass, an article of food gone, or the butter 
suddenly showing its age by crow's-feet lines. 

Any small article that shines looks edible 
to the crow. So it often happens that valuable 
pieces of jewelry, scissors, and thimbles dis- 
appear from the table; and the servant gets the 
blame. There is no time for the robbers to 
investigate closely before the raid, and so, 
since the trinket is indigestible, it is treated 
as the proverbial pearls are treated by the 
proverbial swine, and the owner never sees it. 
again. One invalid lady, who was confined to 
her bed, was horrified at being compelled to lie 
still while a crow deliberately carried off her 
false teeth from the table in the room. 

One day we were riding in a cart that toiled 
slowly through the deep sands of the Irrawaddy 
River bottom, when we came across a number 
of huge vultures which were drying their feathers 
in the hot sun after a dip in the river. They 
stood on the sands and spread their wings 



The Beasts that Perish 



195 



wide, fully ten feet from tip to tip. A number 
of crows hovered about to catch the insects that 
swarm around these ugly carrion eaters. For 
greater convenience, the crows stood on the 




Mealtime for the Vultures 



outstretched wings of the vultures. The added 
weight was disconcerting, to say the least, 
and the big birds began to take the wild and 
awkward leaps that are characteristic of these 
clumsy creatures when on the earth. To see 
the crows bobbing back and forth trying to 
keep their balance on the wings, and the strenu- 
ous but vain efforts of the vultures to dislodge 
them, was indeed mirth-provoking; and we 



ig6 In the Land of Pagodas 

greatly enjoyed viewing the maneuvers when 
scavenger plagues scavenger. 

Like all common and unavoidable annoy- 
ances, the crow soon ceases to attract notice, 
and we almost forget its presence. But should 
I go to the ends of the earth and never return 
to Burma, the raucous caw of a crow would 
ever remind me of Burma's blessing and bother 
of the genus Corvus. 

Dogs 

To see the dogs of the East is to more easily 
understand the force of the expression, "With- 
out are dogs," which occurs in the Biblical 
description of the new earth. Whether this 
prophecy is to be taken literally or figuratively, 
such dogs, or any being that such dogs would 
symbolize, would make heaven very unheavenly. 
To some minds the word suggests a lovable 
pet and companion; to others a servant and a 
protector; but in the East a dog stands for all 
that is obnoxious in animal life, a scavenger 
of scavengers. 

Then is he worth mentioning? No; except 
that, whether worthy or not, he forces himself 
on the attention of human beings in spite of 
every effort to scorn his existence. To deal 
with Burma is to deal with dogs. And, besides. 



The Beasts that Perish igy 

who will say that a scavenger is beneath notice? 

Every village has its quota of dogs; and the 
quota seems to be at the ratio of two dogs to 
each person. The attitude of the people fosters 
an increasing number of them. For religious 
reasons the owners will not kill them. If a 
dog is maimed or incurably sick it drags itself 
around till death. Disease attacks them, and 
scores of mangy, hairless, skin-and-bone canines 
will prowl and howl about a town and hunt 
for carrion to eke out their miserable lives. 
They fight fiercely, and run in packs at night, 
waking the nervous with their yelps. It is a 
custom of foreigners to carry a cane to keep 
them at a distance. But very rarely do they 
molest people, except when they go mad. It is 
best to always steer clear of them, especially 
in hot weather. One of our best and brightest 
Christian school boys was bitten by a mad 
dog while on his way to school one day, and 
though he took the cure provided by the govern- 
ment, he died of hydrophobia a few months later. 
But as far as we observed, there are no more 
dogs go mad in Burma, in proportion to their 
numbers, than in America, or in any other 
much more dogless country. 

But, east as west, "Every dog has his day"; 
and with many of them in India and Burma 



ig8 In the Land of Pagodas 

that day is the annual one when a cooHe from 
the "conservancy department" of the local 
government goes about and throws a piece of 
poisoned meat to every cadaverous canine that 
he meets. The next day there is a big dog 
funeral. 

Pests and Pets 
When we started for the mission field, our 
friends presented us with a small, square organ 
for use in our work. The gift was appreciated; 
and because we were ignorant we took it along. 
To begin with, it came to grief at the landing. 
Four coolies at Bombay were carrying it on 
their heads, one under each corner, and when 
they were ready to set it down they calmly 
stepped out from under it, all together, and let 
it drop. It was broken badly, but the music- 
making parts were intact, and it was soon fixed. 
However, it was doomed to a worse fate. It 
became an ideal nesting place for household 
pests. Ivizards and mice occupied the lower 
stories, and huge roaches found homey living 
stalls just over the reeds. In vain did we 
take it apart and clean out the broods. There 
was no way to make it vermin- tight ; and 
since, to add to our burden, the glued parts 
came loose in the wet season, it had to be sold 



The Beasts that Perish igg 

for little or nothing. Incidentally we learned 
that it pays to buy musical instruments and 
furniture made to stand the tropics; and par- 
ticularly we were made aware that insect and 
animal life in Burma fairly swarms. 

The reader may question the housekeeping 
ability of anyone who would allow roaches, 
mice, and lizards in the house at all. But 
may we beg a hearing of our case? Sentiment 
and sanitation fought for the mastery in our 
minds for a long time. We kept the organ in 
the interests of sentiment, and passed it on 
in the interests of sanitation. And, moreover, 
with the very numbers and persistency of the 
vermin and the very openness of the houses, let 
it be said that it is not a disgrace to find these 
things inside, nor is it much of a disgrace to 
continue to find them ; but it is a disgrace to be 
content to live with them on equal terms and 
to give up the fight. It is a fight, but not so 
bad as it sounds. It is simply a matter of taking 
proper precautions — taking them, and making 
them habits. From some insects and animals 
one can't rid himself entirely, though they can 
be kept at a distance. And in the case of 
others it pays to transform pests into pets. 

Take the lizards, for instance. Reptiles of 
any sort make my flesh creep. Snakes I hate 



200 In the Land of Pagodas 

as I do the devil, and especially after I one 
day rescued a half-swallowed toad from one 
of the slimy rascals. And lizards are classed with 
snakes. But there are lizards and lizards. In 
Burma most of them get short shift, even with 
the natives, who scruple at taking life. One 
variety is called the praying lizard, because 
it is nearly always moving its head up and 
down as if bowing to someone. There is a 
tradition among the Mohammedans that when 
one of the heroes of their early history was 
fleeing from his enemies and had hid in a well, 
one of these lizards was found near-by pointing 
out the hiding place with his nodding head. 
And the Buddhists tell a story that one day 
when the Burmese king was walking in his 
garden he saw one of these reptiles bowing 
to him, as he thought. He was so well pleased 
at its good manners that he had all the praying 
lizards caught that could be found in the palace 
grounds and gold bands fastened about their 
necks. But these metal collars kept them from 
moving their heads as before. So he became 
angry at their lack of thankfulness, and ordered 
them all killed. Therefore the Mohammedans 
and the Buddhists consider it a real work of 
merit to kill these harmless creatures. 

Then there is the chameleon-like lizard that 



The Beasts that Perish 201 

changes its color to suit its surroundings; and 
the tuk-too, a medium-sized fellow who in- 
habits the roofs and eaves of houses and keeps 
out of sight — but not out of hearing. " Oft in the 
stilly night" he will suddenly wake the sleepers 
with his raucous "tuk-too, tuk-too" in meas- 
ured beat, and after several repetitions will 
close the performance with a gutteral growl. 
Some think he says "Doctor," but he suggests 
the undertaker. 

Best of all this tribe are the little five-inch 
lizards that come out on the walls and ceil- 
ings of the house at night and catch insects 
over the light. When, at the beginning of the 
rains, hundreds of "bugs" of every description 
pester the student at his evening lamp, he 
gladly welcomes these little reptiles who have a 
happy hankering for things with wings. With 
pleasure he sees the sides of the little fellows 
get fat on the gorging. They are clean, always 
keep out of the way, and are welcomed by the 
good housekeeper for the service they render. 
Occasionally one will stub his toe on the ceiling 
and light on the floor with a spat, but in a jiffy 
he is up the wall again. 

There was a tiny individual of this species 
who used to make nightly visits down the 
wall to my desk and catch insects. His skin 



202 In the Land of Pagodas 

and flesh were so translucent that I could almost 
see through him, and could easily make out the 
black shade of the dinner in his stomach. Down 
the wall-matting with noiseless rushes and 
motionless pauses he would come, creeping up 
on unwary insects like a cat. When close 
enough he would crouch for a moment, and 
nothing but the flash of his beady eyes showed 
life; then his head would shoot forward and 
his tongue dart out so quickly that my eye 
could scarcely catch the movement. But he 
never missed. The insect was inside. Then he 
would stand and lick his chops, and look at me 
with great satisfaction. One night he stalked the 
wrong quarry and got a mouthful of bitter bug. 
The expression on his elongated countenance 
was almost human as he slowly spit the thing 
out, just like a person making a wry face over 
a dose of quinine. 

On the least movement of mine he would 
scurry away in alarm, although he would run 
onto my prone hand for his prey. There is 
no catching these little reptiles. One day an 
unfortunate member of our brood had his tail 
crushed off by the closing of a table drawer. 
The severed organ dropped to the floor and 
wiggled for a long time, but master lizard 
managed to get the other three-fourths of him- 



The Beasts that Perish 20 j 

self away in good shape. He appeared as usual 
in the evening hunt after that, and seemed to 
have no need of a hospital. And every night 
he had a little more tail, till in a few weeks his 
brand-new caudle appendage was fully de- 
veloped. 

Likewise also there are the ants. They 
deserve a long story by themselves ; but we must 
give them attention according to their size. 
Ivittle ants, big ants, red, black, and white; 
fighting ants, biting ants, army ants galore. 
Houses must be built with the ants in mind. 
Walls are made single so that every crevice 
can be reached. There are no built-in closets 
and cupboards. All furniture stands out from 
the wall, and is set on legs, so that there is a 
clear view all around it. Any piece of furniture 
which contains food, such as a cupboard or 
table, has its feet set in little earthen saucers, 
and these are kept full of water. If every 
possibility of their getting at food is removed, 
the ants do not bother much. But let a little 
scout find no water in one of the saucers some 
night, and the next morning the butter will be 
well peppered with his comrades, and perhaps 
the whole inside of a loaf of bread be eaten out. 

Much has been said about white ants; which 
by the way are not ants at all, but properly 



204 ^^ ^^^ Land of Pagodas 

bear the name termites. They have a Hght- 
colored body and resemble ants. They build 
huge nests below or above ground, and are very 
destructive. They never work in the light, 
but always build a covered run- way wherever 
they commit their depredations; thus they can 
be traced easily and obstructed. Nearly all 
kinds of wood, leather, cloth, and such materials, 
are tasty morsels to the white ant. A board 
left on the ground at night will sometimes be 
completely covered by their earthen work-shop 
the next morning. At one time during the 
initial stages of our work we neglected to watch, 
and paid the penalty by having the bottoms of 
a trunk and a suit-case badly eaten. At another 
lax period a number of books had their covers 
nearly all devoured. 

Ordinarily the white ants can be kept out 
by thick cement floors, and an occasional look 
round to see that they are not starting any- 
thing up the outside walls. When we built our 
house I was sure no sensible white ant would 
attempt four inches of concrete and one inch of 
solid cement. But they did, and actually came 
up through where we could see no sign of a 
crack or a flaw. One morning I came down- 
stairs to find, right in the middle of the front- 
room floor, what looked like a little clay model 



In the Land of Pagodas 205 

of a tree. The tiny creatures had bored up 
through the cement, and, finding nothing to 
eat, had constructed a hollow run- way right up 
into the air, with branches shooting off in 
different directions as if trying to feel something 
edible. Of course we demolished this beginning 
of a mud forest, and poured crude oil down the 
hole, which settled them in that place for a 
long time to come. Various insecticides will kill 
them; but they are innumerable, resourceful, 
and persistent. 

The stranger to the country concludes from 
all this that it must be a constant vexation of 
spirit — and very little vanity — to keep house in 
Burma. But it isn't, when one gets used to it. 
In building it is no more difficult and expensive 
to provide against vermin and pests in Burma 
than it is to provide against extreme cold in 
more frigid latitudes. The people are not 
bothered nearly so much with flies; for, thanks 
to nature's scavenger system and the English 
government's excellent sanitary precautions in 
the towns, there are few flies in the country. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE HEAT AND THE HILLS 

IT IS the month of April. In northern cHmes 
nature is just beginning to twitch the corners 
of her mouth for summer's smile; in south 
latitudes a winter frown gathers on her brow; 
in Burma the face of the earth tans and blisters 
under a zenith sun. Heat is ascending, and you 
can't get off the top. Heat is descending ,and 
you can't get out from under. Fume and fret 
about it, and you add a third source of warmth. 
Take it cooly and reflect sunshine — literally 
and figuratively. The world moves fastest at 
the equator, but its inhabitants who live there 
must move the m^ost slowly. 

Stand here a moment and look down the road. 
The wavy atmosphere ascends as from a hot 
stove. Feel the glare of the bare, baked earth 
in aching eyes and throbbing forehead. Sense 
the withering, scorching breeze that fairly 
puffs your face. Your spine carries a dizzy, 
sickening sensation to your head. Let me 

draw you back into the shade of the house, 
206 



The Heat and the Hills 



2oy 





450 Pagodas in one Inclosure, Viewed from Mandaley Hill 

even though its 102° seems to give no reUef; 
and put on these dark spectacles to rest your 
eyes. 



2o8 In the Land of Pagodas 

But 102° in the shadow is not extremely hot. 
Why such care? On an August baking day 
or a July haying day at home you have felt as 
hot as you do now. But mark this : it is not so 
much the tropic heat that injures as it is the 
tropic rays. Scientists have found that sun 
rays have other qualities than light and heat. 
The actinic rays, those capable of producing 
chemical changes, are strong in the direct rays 
of the torrid belt. They pierce to the brain 
and effect injurious and lasting results, usually 
a weakening of nerve power. 

It is a peculiar fact that, while in India and 
Burma persons from colder climates wear thick 
pith helmets, called topees, and often carry a 
sunshade besides, yet the natives of temperate 
zones who reside in other parts of the tropics, 
especially in the West, find a thin straw hat 
a sufficient protection. It has been suggested 
that the wearing of a topee is only an unneces- 
sary habit on the part of foreign residents in 
India. However that may be, there is grave 
danger in going out in the noonday sun without 
one, as many have learned to their unfitting 
for labor. One may "get the sun" without 
feeling very hot; and some persons are more 
susceptible to its influence than others. From 
casual observation it would seem that light- 



The Heat and the Hills 20Q 

complexioned individuals fare worse in this 
respect than the darker ones. 

From June to October the cHmate is warm 
and wet; from November to February it is 
cool and dry; from March to May it is hot 
and dry. But during the whole annual round 
the midday heat is uncomfortable. Aside from 
the rays before mentioned, the foreigner suffers 
from the almost unchanging high temperature. 
Day by day the vital fluid becomes more thin 
and sluggish, and there is a "washed-out" 
feeling which is very depressing. Frequent fur- 
loughs home are impossible. The heights pro- 
vide the only respite. Every yard upward is 
a mile northward. "As the shadow of a great 
rock in a weary land," so is the air of the hills 
in the torrid heat. We are not oblivious to 
the lesson conveyed, and our desire for the 
" heavenly hills " becomes greater at the thought. 

I had spent two hot seasons in the pit, and 
was off for the hills at last. A wakeful night 
ride on a dusty, stuffy train landed me at the 
nearest railway station, thirty miles from a 
chosen retreat. The others had gone before, 
and I was to make the trip alone on a bicycle. 
A friend had warned of dacoits (robbers), but, too 
eager to wait till day, when the half -moon 
rose for my beacon at three o'clock, my mount 



210 In the Land of Pagodas 

glided out over the white reaches of road that 
wound around among the rice-fields and through 
the jungle. The height of the forest and the 
density of underbrush cast Cimmerian shadows 
over the way; but the weird feeling attendant 
therewith was relieved by the twinkling of 
thousands of fireflies flitting beneath the trees 
on either side. 

After a ride of several miles all signs of human 
presence and habitation were passed. Quietness 
was resting heavily, when suddenly an owl 
smote the stillness with a blood-freezing screech, 
and scurried away ahead, awakening the echoes 
into a score of answering cries. Other night- 
birds made protest to the. dark apparition that 
so stealthily invaded their quiet domain, as it 
sped swiftly over the white roadway, and was 
gone. But for all that the rider shuddered at 
feelings uncanny, there was something exhila- 
rating about coming close to the haunts of 
these habitants of the forest who are in league 
with the night. 

At a near approach to the foot of the hills, 
just beyond a sharp turn in the road, several 
huge black objects loomed up in the pale moon- 
light. The road was completely obstructed, and I 
alighted with alacrity, moving forward cau- 
tiously to investigate. I was taken aback at 



The Heat and the Hills 211 

finding them elephants, tame of course, but 
the largest I have ever seen, and quite repellent. 
They were quietly browsing on the bushes 
at the roadside, and at first seemed unattended ; 
but soon I perceived a keeper on the back of 
each one, almost invisible as they slept or 
showed the faint glow of the crude cigars they 
smoked. Slipping past the gigantic bodies, I 
felt distinct relief at leaving them behind. 

As the east showed faint tracings of ap- 
proaching day, the ascent was begun. It was 
necessary to push my wheel for sixteen miles 
up the winding road as I walked. Up, up, up, 
mile after mile, around and back, twisting, 
curving, but always ascending — dragging foot- 
steps enlivened only by the near prospect of 
cooling breezes and the more distant one of 
coasting down these steeps on my return. 
Gradually rising above the heat and dust and 
glare, the air ever becoming perceptibly more 
refreshing, I came to autumn in the spring. 
For was it not April ? and here were the dry 
leaves crackling under my feet and falling in 
showers at every gust. Red and brown and 
yellow they were, and all the tints — but you 
know. There was that indescribable influence 
in the air that I had thought only October 
knew, — the quiet peace of summer falling asleep. 



212 In the Land of Pagodas 

the glorious "Indian summer" of a more 
familiar land. 

The jungle giants, with the fitful help of the 
passing breeze, were fast laying aside their 
erstwhile garments, finding best wardrobes in 
sheltered nooks among the rocks. But strange 
for me to see and relate, they still maintained 
a liberal show of green, seeming to have taught 
the people of this land their custom of doffing 
the old and donning the new in the same action. 
The denser foliage was gone, however, and many 
former retreats of parrot and monkey were 
exposed, only forming better hiding-places for 
the ground-folk, bright-colored pheasants and 
feather- tailed squirrels. Trees of a hundred 
years stretched up tiptoe from the high cliffs 
or crouched low in the nether valleys. vSprings 
of clear -vyater dripped from the rocky steeps and 
gurgled under the well-kept culverts. Over all, 
the morning sun broke through the autumn 
haze, like the royal chariot appearing through 
the smoke of battle, bringing courage and cheer 
to the sentinels of the night. 

I stood entranced, thrilled, dumb. Burma 
had redeemed itself. From the hills had come 
my help. 

There was inspiration in it. And being 
given to rhymes, as I sat on a convenient stone 



The Heat and the Hills 2jj 

by the roadside, I took out my little notebook 
and pencil and wrote: 

When the atmosphere is fiery in the oven of 

Rangoon, 
And the oven door is closed upon the sultriness 

of noon; 
When the heat arises wavingly and sunshine 

falls in sheets; 
And the dust is light and choky midst the 

friction of the streets. 
Turn away from perspiration and a hundred 

season ills. 
To the high and healthy Thandaung, viewful 

Thandaung of the hills. 

When the eye-balls burn like fire in the glare of 
Mandalay ; 

Earth and firmament conspire to disgrace the 
month of May; 

When the fever-touch of prickly heat makes 
clothes rub like a file, 

And you just pretend to sleep and disremember 
how to smile; 

Flee away from all the broiling and the worry- 
thought that kills. 

And invest a month in Thandaung, cooling 
Thandaung of the hills. 



214 ^^^ ^^^ Land of Pagodas 

When the lake is burnished silver by desirable 
Meiktila, 

And there's no relief from parching even in a 
lakeside villa; 

When a dull, indifferent appetite makes brows- 
ing food a duty, 

And the misery of living far eclipses all the 
. beauty; 

Then away to sylvan valleys where the cloud- 
mist sweet distills 

O'er the wooded peaks of Thandaung, restful 
Thandaung of the hills. . 

Denizens of dust, remember, going up is going 
north; 

'Tis the season when the hilltops pour their 
autumn beauties forth. 

Quit the petty earth annoyances, the city's 
vain conceits ; 

Revel to your heart's content in Burma's sky 
retreats. 

Flout the doctor's bitter medicines and sugar- 
coated pills ; 

Fly away above the marshes; visit Thandaung 
of the hills. 

The experience of over a hundred years of 
Protestant missions in southern Asia has taught 



The Heat and the Hills 



215 



mission boards that the missionary must have a 
month or six weeks in the hills every year 
during the hot season in order to continue in 




„j 



A Rest Home in the Shan Hills for the Burma Missionaries 



the field and maintain health. Also that he 
should spend a year in the homeland after long 
periods of work to keep that freshness and 
vigor that is so necessry to the life-time laborer 
in depressing heathen lands. And this for 
ordinary circumstances and average health. 
PVail bodies often must have longer furloughs 
and more frequent changes, or not continue 
in the work at all. If the missionary does not 



2i6 In the Land of Pagodas 

occasionally break the strain of the work, the 
strain of the work will break him. It is economy 
in the long run to conserve health even at what 
seems excessive costs. 

The foreigner from temperate zones soon 
learns to appreciate the hill stations of tropical 
countries. He longs for a permanent rest-home 
in high altitudes, to which he can fly as to a 
refuge when the humid heat is insufferable 
in the plains. 

While our early missionaries frequented Than- 
daung and rented quarters; in later years 
Kalaw, a more desirable location in the Shan 
Hills east of Meiktila, was chosen as our perma- 
nent hill home. And there, in a climate that 
rivals the central southern United States, com- 
modious bungalows have been built. The 
workers resort to them in groups of three or 
four families at a time during the months of 
March, April, and May. When the rains begin 
in June all are ready to descend to the plains 
again and plunge anew into the work with 
fresh zeal. A native is hired to take care of 
the houses and grounds the year round for a 
small wage. They are provided with beds, 
tables, chairs, and some dishes, while the 
occupants bring with them all the necessary 
personal effects that are to make comfortable 
their camp-meeting-like outing. 



The Heat and the Hills 2iy 

Kalaw hides in a lovely little valley in the 
pine country, where the crisp, clean pine needles 
carpet the ground inches thick. Huge clumps 
of bamboos cluster along the streams; and 
harmless forest fires glow in the night. It is 
the haunt of monkeys and deer; the place of 
raspberries wild and strawberries tame, of pine- 
apples and figs, of rare quality potatoes, puffed 
rice, and peanut candy; in short, while not 
possessing all that is ideal, it is a change — a 
change of temperature, of air, of food, of sur- 
roundings, of view, of noises and smells; and a 
change is rest to those who are sick of sameness 
and routine. 

But the hill vacation is not spent in idleness. 
There are neglected letters to write, put-off 
reading and study to do, long tramps in the 
open, and vigorous play. And too, a missionary 
could not come into contact with the com- 
paratively few hill folk without doing some- 
thing to help them just a little. So sundry 
friendly overtures are made toward the simple 
natives who are met on jungle trails or in the 
little markets. It is significant that the nearer 
these primitive people are to "nature" the 
farther they are from God. The most isolated are 
generally the most base, yet they are more simple- 
hearted and easily reached by gospel truth. 



2l8 



In the Land of Pagodas 



One day we met a happy exception to this 
baseness, if appearances count. We were going 
for a Httle 

tramp up a - ^^ — - - 

valley among ^, 

the hills and 
met an old 
cultivator 
driving his 
skinny cows 
and carrying 
a few sticks 
home for the 
evening fire. 
He was bent 
far over upon 
a cane, and 
everything 
he wore was 
of one color, 
that of mud. 
As we passed 
he raised his 
head, and we 
were shocked 
— agreeably 
shocked. In- 
stead of the usual black, toothless cavern that 




A Padauns Woman, One T>i)e of the Hill People. 

Long Necks are the Style, and She Adds Rings 

to Hers Till it Conforms to the Latest 



The Heat and the Hills 2ig 

serves as a mouth in the faces of so many of 
those aged men, or the sin- wrinkled counte- 
nance of a man grown old in debasing habits, 
we saw a face that fairly beamed goodness and 
good-nature. It was very old and seamed, 
and there was not a tooth in his head ; but every 
one of those crow-toes about his eyes told a 
story that I should love to have repeated in 
detail. He accorded us a very benediction of a 
smile, mumbled that we had better not go very 
far as night was coming on, and hobbled on his 
way. I hope the picture of that old man's 
face will remain with me forever, and I believe 
it will. 

No doubt the far-scattered hill-tribes of 
Burma would get much less attention from 
Christianizing, civilizing influences if the heat 
of the lowlands did not drive the missionaries to 
the high retreats every year. Contact begets 
interest, and interest begets love. And, too, 
as some of the most pleasant memories of the 
Christian worker in torrid climates are con- 
nected with his hill vacations, we are led after 
all to exclaim, "Blessed be heat!" No heat, 
no hills. And the hills are a world of comfort. 



CHAPTER XIII 

PLAY TIME 

IT MAY seem strange to begin a chapter 
bearing such a title by describing a funeral; 
but the reader will conclude that it ap- 
propriately belongs here. It would seem from 
observation that all non-Christian peoples make 
the ceremonies attendant on a death an occasion 
for having a gay time. 

"Why doesn't the procession proceed?" I 
questioned, on joining a group of Burmese friends 
who stood waiting for a delayed funeral train. 

"They are waiting for the lemonade cart to 
come up. " was the answer. I was surprised with 
that surprise which comes from being many 
times surprised. A funeral waiting for the 
lemonade! Curiosity bade me attend that 
funeral. 

And while we are waiting allow me to digress 
a little. In Rangoon there are native under- 
takers who get their business from the Chris- 
tian — but not altogether Westernized — native 
population. One such undertaker has a hearse 



Play Time 221 

which is an imitation of the most imposing 
American patterns — suggestive ornaments above, 
glass sides, white draperies inside, a low platform 
for the coffin, high front seat, high-stepping 
team, and all. Coolies from the street, not 
friends of the deceased, are mustered as pall- 
bearers, and these are provided by the funeral 
director. These bearers run alongside the 
hearse as the corpse is being conveyed to the 
cemetry. 

One day we met this grand equipage coming 
back from the graveyard after its usual trip. 
As it swept past, our Western eyes were shocked 
by a sight that for the moment took our breath. 
The four pall-bearers were sitting one behind 
the other inside the hearse where the coffin 
had recently rested, and peering out from among 
the curtains. Their dusky faces and roving 
eyes, together with the close position into which 
they were compelled to squeeze, gave on an 
instant the impression that the dead had come 
to life and in surprised protest was seeking a 
way out of his confinement. To us, who never 
before had even imagined such a situation, the 
effect was extremely weird and uncanny. How- 
ever, these were not Burmans. The incident is a 
little touch of India, and illustrates that in the 
Bast one may expect to see strange combi- 
nations. 



222 In the Land of Pagodas 

Though the Buddhist rehgion is veiy pure 
in principle when compared with other rehgions 
of India and Burma, yet there are few Buddhists 
today who keep strictly the precepts of Gauta- 
ma. Devil-worship is mingled with their beliefs, 
and many superstitious practises are followed. 
For many of the rites performed by the devotees 
of the great Indian prince, few worshipers can 
give the reason or origin. This is very true of 
the customs connected with funeral ceremonies. 
My narration will be of what is done at a 
funeral rather than of any explanation of its 
significance. If any reasons are suggested, let 
it be understood that they belong to the on- 
looker; for very likely they may not exist in 
the minds of the participants, whose processes 
of mind are absolutely different from ours. 

A death occurs, and the pent grief of the 
human heart, in the presence of the great sting, 
overflows in manifestations known too well by 
all of us. A band of music is engaged, and 
begins to play, continuing to do so night and 
day until the burial. In all seriousness we 
should term this the classical music of Burma. 
Being unappreciative, we call it noise. The 
instruments are few in number, consisting of a 
kind of flute, some crude drums thumped with 
the fleshy part of the hand, and sticks which are 



224 In the Land of Pagodas 

clapped together. Sometimes to these is added 
the tapping of Httle bells. When the players 
tire, others take their places; and as the long 
hours of the night drag on, those who watch, 
in order to keep a- "wake," gamble, play 
games, and drink in a fashion not unfamiliar to 
other peoples. This band playing, which is not 
entirely without an element of real music, has 
no doubt something to do with driving away 
the evil spirits or enticing the good. We could 
recommend it for the former purpose. 

Meanwhile some male member of the family 
is off to the saw-pit, and soon returns with 
lumber for the coffin, which he nails together 
in the street in front of the house. Friends 
and relatives are called, and there is much 
festivity. Judging by the actions of those 
present, the whole affair is treated with a spirit 
of indifference or levity. The Burmese ex- 
pression for funeral means "the unpleasant 
bearing out, " but appearances would cause us to 
omit the negative prefix of the adjective. 

The coffin is a rough box, decorated or not 
according to the will or affluence of the person 
who bears the expense. If delay causes the 
corpse to become obnoxious, powdered charcoal 
or other preservative is used to cover it. For- 
merly dead bodies were kept for some days 



Play Time 225 

before burial, but it is now coming to be the 
custom to inter within a much shorter time. 

The hearse occupies much attention. One is 
built new for each funeral, from the wheels up. 
The frame- work is of bamboo, and the decora- 
tions consist of colored cloth, paper, and tinsel, 
arranged with the highest artistic skill of the 
makers. Sometimes the canopy top is made 
very high, especially when a priest or some 
prominent person is carried, and then there is 
great difficulty passing under trees and wires. 
Usually four wheels are used, a departure from 
the cart habit, and the writer has seen a 
carriage for the coffin of a child constructed by 
connecting two bicycles with a rigid frame. 
Of whatever form, rigidity characterizes these 
vehicles, and, having no means of guidance, 
they are sure to be trouble wagons with other 
than most careful handling. In anticipation of 
difficulty the coffins are tied on with ropes. 

First in the procession, the priests march se- 
dately; then the corpse on its vehicle appears, 
propelled by friends or whoever wishes to lend 
a hand, usually the gay young men of the town. 
The immediate family of the deceased follow 
the hearse on foot. Then come the gifts for 
the priests. These are borne in flat baskets on 
the heads of the most beautiful and well-dressed 

8 



226 In the Land of Pagodas 

maids of the neighborhood. They walk in two 
rows, and thoroughly enjoy the distinction. 
Their baskets contain boxes of matches, candles, 
fruits, cigars, betel-nut boxes, and other such 
small articles, while carts follow them bearing 
bags of rice and the other heavier gifts. Some- 
times Indian coolies are employed to join the 
procession and carry articles dangling from 
poles on their shoulders. It is a unique sight 
to see slippers, umbrellas, lamps, tins of biscuits, 
rugs, and robes thus borne along. The band 
cart has a prominent place, and the players 
keep up a continuous tooting and thumping. 
Last of all, but, to all appearances, not least 
in importance, come the refreshment carts, 
filled with lemonade, gifts, and eatables for the 
attending crowd. Whatever the purpose of this 
contingent at the rear, it works out in insuring 
a popular funeral, if popularity is to be measured 
in crowds of self-seekers. 

Well, our particular procession is at last 
ready to start off again. The crowd has assured 
itself that the lemonade cart is in evidence, 
and is content to trudge on. We join the happy 
throng, and precede or follow the hearse, or 
make short cuts at will, in imitation of all the 
others. And oh, here is a new element that 
we hadn't noticed before, because they were 



Play Time 



22^ 



mingling with the'crowd — clowns, at least the}'' 
look and act just^like the clowns of the circus 
parade at home in America. They are half 

naked men, 
supposed to be 
dressed and 
painted to rep- 
resent angels 
and devils. 
And such an- 
tics, and joking 
and laughter! 
Small boys go 
into ecstacies. 
The clowns are 
pulling a little 
affair mounted 
o n wheels , 
which is made 
of cloth and 
looks like a 
cannon. There 
is great interest 
in this, but all 
it does for the 
H A. .-,.». p I. H » . , present is to 

He Attends tne * uneral to Kepreseiit au Angel ^ 

pique curiosity. 
The priests have gone far ahead and are 




228 In the Land of Pagodas 

sitting by the roadside to rest. With the 
excuse of making up lost time, there is great 
bustle at the hearse. Some playful boys have 
been pushing it back and forth and jumping on 
for a ride. These are unceremoniously knocked 
aside, and while they cry the onlookers laugh. 
The men who push and pull are smoking and 
joking. Away they go on a run, down a hill, 
through a sandy place, and up on the other 
side. Having no way of guiding it, the con- 
veyance swerves off the road into the ditch 
and sways fearfully. Perhaps it is not an 
accident. We have seen youth wink at each 
other, lift the back end over and give the 
affair a push sideways. Anyway, no one seems 
bothered. There is much yelling and laughter 
as the vehicle is righted, backed up, and sent 
on its way again. 

In due time the parade reaches the cemetery. 
Burmese burial-places seem to have been lo- 
cated with the idea of not wasting on the dead 
any land that is useful to the living. Especially 
in the upper country there is such a scarcity 
of fertile ground that the cemetries are placed 
on stony plots. Funerals are held in the after- 
noon; and since morning some friends of the 
deceased have been engaged in digging the 
grave on this desolate hilltop. But it is hard 



Play Time 22Q 

work, and they have reached a depth of only two 
feet when the procession arrives. But it does 
not matter; the crowd will help; and perhaps 
that is the underlying reason why more energy 
has not been displayed in getting it done in 
time. 

One of the vanguard volunteers, grasps the 
hoe-like mattock, and jumps into the hole. 
The thuds of the instrument and the grunts of 
the digger are accompanied by the usual witti- 
cisms indulged in by the crowd when there are 
many bosses and one workman. When the first 
recruit has worked up a sweat, another takes 
his place, and so on till the grave is deep enough, 
— which depth usually stops far short of six 
feet. 

Meanwhile the coffin is removed from its 
carrier and laid to one side. In fact, it receives 
very little if any attention during the whole 
ceremony. Everything done seems to be centered 
on the living, not on the dead. The priests 
range themselves in a row, and then seat them- 
selves on mats laid on the ground. Just back 
of each priest is a little boy, his attendant, who 
has come to bear away the presents. And in 
front of the priestly row all these gifts are 
piled; while beyond them the relatives of the 
dead are grouped in a kneeling posture. The 



2 JO In the Land of Pagodas 

priests in concert mumble what seems to be a 
prayer, at a rapid chant, and the worshipers 
mumble in response as they bow low and touch 
their heads to the ground again and again. 

This continues for several minutes; and then 
suddenly the priests rise to their feet and thus 
indicate that the procedure is finished. This 
rising is the signal for the small-boy attendants 
of the holy men to make a wild scramble for 
the presents, each trying to do the best he can 
by his master. The yellow-robed figures dis- 
dainfully ignore this disgraceful action, and, 
turning neither to the right hand nor to the 
left, they walk in single file back to the kyaung, 
followed by the proud little gift-grabbers. 

Meanwhile again — for there are four centers 
of attraction, which keep the crowd surging 
back and forth — there is a clamor for the 
refreshments . The lemonade — an aerated water , 
like "soda pop" in America — is distributed and 
popped, and there is great exuberance of 
spirits. Sweets and biscuits also go the round; 
and quite a banquet ensues. 

Fourthly, the clowns do their prettiest and 
ugliest and funniest. The little cannon is set 
off and goes flying about over the ground as it 
explodes, hitting the legs of the onlookers and 
chasing small boys. This causes great hilarity, 
and is equal to the greased pig. 



Play Time 2ji 

And then, — the crowd goes home. For what's 
the use of staying when the show is over and 
they are under no obhgation to respect the 
dead as we do. In this funeral the refresh- 
ment period was not timed right, and the grave 
is not finished. From habit we hnger to see the 
body interred. And we see what otherwise we 
would have missed — the manifestations of un- 
consoled and unrestrained grief on the part of 
those near and dear to the one who to them 
is gone forever. They wail, and roll on 
the ground, and pull out handfuls of hair. 
It is pitiable. The sorrow of those "who have 
no hope" is heart-breaking, even to those who 
are but spectators. So even in Burma, death 
is an enemy after all. 

But enough of this, and on to merry times 
which, to the reader at least, will suggest 
happier thoughts. 

No one needs to be told that children the 
world over love to play; and the only difference 
in them is that some have more opportunity to 
play than others, and so know more about it. 
In countries where the children have to work 
in early years they turn their work into play, 
Burmese girls and boys— especially boys — ^have 
a play chance above the average in eastern lands. 
Men and women play, too, but first mention 



2J2 In the Land of Pagodas 

is due to the natural players — the youngsters. 

I suppose that, ever since the wondering 
eyes of little Cain and Abel saw the first apple 
or walnut drop from a tree and roll down the 
hill, the world's children have liked to play with 
balls. Of course Burmese boys are not found 
playing ball, but they play with a ball. There 
is a difference. I tried in the school at Meiktila, 
by instruction and long-continued example, to 
play baseball; but they never got beyond the 
"butter-finger" stage, and excused themselves 
by saying that baseball is a boy's game, but 
football is a man's game; forsooth, because the 
English officials have encouraged football. The 
football played is the real kicking variety, and is 
becoming quite popular. 

The Burman schoolboys make a hand ball 
out of something, even if it is only a roUed-up 
rag or a wound-up length of cane. One ball 
game of theirs is played like this: Say sixteen 
boys will choose up equal sides. All gird up 
their skirt-like longees about their loins for 
greater freedom. Then the boys on one side 
climb on the backs of those on the other side in 
the way familiar to us all. The eight "horses" 
arrange themselves in a circle, each one about 
fifteen feet from the next. Then the riders toss 
e ball to ea ch other around the circle; and 



Play Time 233 

the rule is that the horses must stand in one 
spot while the game is in progress, though 
they may move their bodies in order to make 
the riders miss the ball if possible. If the ball 
goes around once without being missed, the 
whole group move around one space to the left, 
amid great shouting on the part of the victori- 
ous riders. This is one inning — or may we call it 
an upping? If this is repeated eight times, or 
until the horses get around to where they 
started, the riders have won the game. But 
rarely does this occur. Instead, the ball is soon 
missed by some rider; whereupon all the riders 
are dismounted in a hurry and become horses 
for their erstwhile riders, till the ball is muffed 
again. It is good sport, and is worth trying 
anywhere. 

The typical Burmese football is made of strips 
of cane — such as are used to cane chair-seats, 
but heavier — wound into a hollow ball about 
five inches in diameter. The game with this 
is very simple — to describe, but not to play well. 
About eight players gird up, and form a circle. 
The object is to keep the ball flying in graceful 
curves through the air from one to another and 
not let it touch the ground or anyone's hands. 
One will start it across the circle with his toe; 
another will return it by striking it with his 



Play Time 2J5 

knee. The nearest player to where it comes 
down win send it up again with his elbow, 
shoulder, or head. It takes long practise to be 
able to let it come down over one's head from 
the front, and, by hitting it with the heel, send 
it back the way it came. It is a mild exercise 
for a quiet evening in the street in front of the 
house, and is a game for the quieter sort of 
larger boys and men. 

The little girls play with dolls, usually wooden 
or rag ones; and they play jacks with the hard 
brown seeds of a native tree. To correspond 
with rope jumping, minus the rope, they sit 
on their heels, and jump around while in this 
position, seeing who can keep it up the longest. 
There is a game like hop-scotch, and one like 
prisoner's base. 

While the children play all the time or any- 
time, the real play time for all Burma is in the 
evening, beginning at eight o'clock and many 
times lasting all night. The cool of the day is 
the time to work, the heat of the day is the 
time to sleep, and the cool of the night is the 
time to play. 

Nearly all the good times a Burman has, and 
especially an adult Burman, he has in con- 
nection with his religion. Christians are urged 
to carry their religion into their everyday life, 



2^6 In the Land of Pagodas 

and they need to be urged. Buddhists carry 
their everyday Hfe into their rehgion, and they 
do not need to be urged. If the Burman wants 
to see a circus, a circus-Hke performance is 
arranged for a rehgious feast — or pwe, as it is 
called. If he wants to gamble (and gambling 
is a habit among Mongolians) he gambles at 
the pwe. The feasts and sabbaths and festivals 
and consecrations provide the "big doings" 
in Burma. And certainly, when religion is con- 
ceived of as a convenience, this method has its 
advantages. But, in passing, we may remark 
that it in large part explains why it is so hard to 
separate a Buddhist, and particularly a fun- 
loving Burmese youth, from his religion. For 
his religion provides everything youth naturally 
likes to do. But it lacks the uplift. 

There is the light feast, when for several 
nights candles innumerable — and nowadays 
varicolored electric lights where electricity is 
available — illuminate the fronts of the houses 
in artistic arrangement, or are set in rows 
along the streets. 

There is the water feast just before the 
beginning of the rains, when water frolics of 
every description are all the fashion. Then 
look out for your good clothes. Water (seldom 
clean) is thrown or squirted into the windows 



Play Time 257 

of passing cars or trains; and woe to the well- 
dressed Burmese lady in the street. She will 
be drenched. It is the Burmese Hallowe'en, 
translated in water. 

A pwe is held in honor of some big pagoda, 
some historical event, a particularly holy day, 
or as a memorial of a dead priest. There are 
more or less daytime doings, but the popular 
time is at night. The whole celebration par- 
takes of the nature of a street fair, or carnival. 
Refreshment and gambling booths line the 
streets, and "skin games" are common. There 
is boxing, and music, and dancing, and puppet 
shows, and parades. There is some religious 
ceremony connected with all of it, but it is 
such a side — or back — issue that the visitor 
would not notice it. The whole town turns out, 
and meets the whole countryside on the thronged 
streets. 

The parade may come in the daytime. It is 
usually made up of decorated carts, men 
dressed — or undressed — as good and bad spirits, 
men at sword play, and huge imitation animals 
mounted on wheels. Nearly every parade "has 
a white elephant on its hands. ' ' Burma is some- 
times called " The Land of the White Elephant," 
as there attaches to that animal a certain 
sacredness. A life-sized figure of an elephant 



Play Time 2T,g 

will be made of bent bamboos covered with white 
cloth and paper. The ears, tail, and trunk are 
made waggable, and as the quaking spectacle 
rolls down the street two men in the hollow 
interior flap the ears and move the trunk and 
tail, to the great delight of hundreds of gleeful 
children running alongside. 

There are stiffly-acted theatrical shows on 
gaudy stages, with sing-song conversation pre- 
dominating. The puppet-shows are Punch-and- 
Judy affairs on a larger scale. Crude figures of 
animals and people are manipulated by sup- 
posed-to-be-invisible wires from above the low 
stage. They leap about at a great rate, and get 
into all sorts of mix-ups. Considerable skill 
is shown in handling them. Their cutting up 
is interesting to the foreign visitor for about 
half an hour; but the Burmese will sit and watch 
•them off and on all night. 

Burmese girls are famous for their dancing. 
They do not "trip the light fantastic toe," but 
twist the sinuous and supple body. In our 
dancing our feet show the greatest movement. 
In Burmese dancing the feet are the only parts 
of the body that do not move. Then is it 
dancing? Yes, it is, but the Burmese believe 
in letting the whole body dance, and not allow- 
ing the lowly feet to have the monopoly of it. 



240 In the Land of Pagodas 

And this is good sense when you think of it. 

A small, low platform about the size of a 
large bed is placed in the open square or street, 
and decorated a bit. The band is stationed 
near by, and consists of about five instruments : 
two crudely made drums, large and small, to 
correspond with the bass- and snare-drums we 
have, that are thumped with the fleshy part 
of the base of the thumb, and are kept in good 
tune by the players frequently smearing on 
their surfaces some paste of burnt rice husk; 
a flute-like instrument with a shrill tone; two 
bamboos clapped together for cymbals; and last 
and largest an instrument that comes nearer 
being a xylophone than any other instrument 
we know. It looks like a porch railing in 
circular form, and about four feet in diameter. 
Between each two spindles, and suspended from 
the top rail by a string, is a saucer-shaped 
piece of brass; each of these is of different size 
and tone from the others. The player gets in 
the center of the contraption, sits on his heels, 
and with two little wooden mallets in his hands 
strikes the saucers. When the music is fast and 
furious, as it often is, it is necessary for him 
to hop around in a rather lively manner. 

The dancer demurely takes her place, and 
smiles at the audience, which applauds vocifer- 



Play Time 



241 



ously. Perhaps she blushes, but we can't see 
through the thick paste on her face. Her hair is 
done up tastily on her head, and some beautiful 

little white 
flowers adorn 
it. Her dress is 
the last word 
in B urmese 
fashionable fe- 
male attire. 
Her lace jacket 
is made to fluff 
out with stiff 
stays and the 
narrow skirt 
trails the plat- 
form, so even 
her toes are in- 
visible. Some- 
times Burmese 
maids dance 
in groups, but 
more often 
they do it 
singly. Good 
dancers are in 
great demand, 
, and receive 

She Sways Gracefully to the Lilting Music Illgn WagCS. 




242 In the Land of Pagodas 

The music begins with a thump and a blare, 
and the newcomer, all eyes on the dancing figure, 
wonders if she is in torturing pain and going 
into convulsions. Her neck and body and arms 
twist and turn and coil in the most fantastic 
contortions imaginable, as she sways grace- 
fully to the lilting- strain of the band. The 
expression on her ashy face and in her flashing 
black eyes changes from comedy to tragedy, 
and shows in turn love, hate, scorn, indifference, 
and exhilarating joy, as she dances through a 
story in real life. There is no word nor song. 
It is moving-picture-like in its pantomime. The 
visitor says she acts silly, just like a foolish 
child "putting on airs." But no; there is more 
in it than that. Yet one must know the Bur- 
mese to understand it. All the attractiveness 
of the drama of oriental life is there. The 
gathered audience watch with keen interest, 
and critically appraise the ability or deficiency 
of every move the serpentine figure makes. 

Hour after hour the performance continues, 
with seemingly very little variety. At long 
intervals the girl sinks wearily to the floor, and 
there is a time for rest; but very soon she is up 
and at it again. Families bring their mat 
beds to the show and unroll them on the ground. 
As the gay hours slip by, they gaze and gossip, 



Play Time 243 

and when the night drags they eat and sleep 
by snatches. At quiet moments can be heard 
the devout drone of prayers at the nearby 
pagoda and the tinkle of the htee bells in the soft 
evening air. Ah, there is a lure about the 
lights and the colors and the moving throng and 
the general aspect of something doing, that 
appeals to the human heart and makes the 
Burman love his people and his religion very 
much indeed. Perhaps it is beside the question 
to ask. What about the day after? But anyway 
he has a good time while it lasts; and as to 
how much lasting satisfaction he gets out of it, 
we do not know, for "The East is East." 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE INDUSTRIAL METHOD 

TEACHER, I want to learn a trade." 
He was a sleepy-eyed Burmese young- 
ster from a distant village, who had heard 
from afar of the new school. 

"Is it so, San Hla (Beautiful Rice)?" I said 
cordially. "And what trade do you want to 
learn?" 

He wiggled his bare toes in the dust for a 
moment, and then came out with, "To make 
shoes." 

"Very well," and I led him over to the 
workshop, where several boys of his age were 
learning to cut, pound, and nail sole leather. 
He looked at the workers for a few minutes, and 
slowly a shade of disappointment stole over 
his brown face. 

"How is that?" I asked. 

"Teacher, I didn't want to learn to do it 
that way." 

"Then how did you want to learn to do it?" 

"I want to stand at a machine, and put 
244 



246 In the Land of Pagodas 

leather in at one side, and pull out a shoe at 
the other side, all finished." 

And this boy was just in from a section where 
they use the same primitive methods and tools 
in everyday work that the Egyptians used four 
thousand years ago. Whatever else I gleaned 
from this encounter with young Burma, I came 
to know that the boys who were attracted to us 
would first have to be taught the right view- 
point toward labor and trades. I painfully 
explained to this aspirant that it would be many 
years before shoe-making machinery of ad- 
vanced type could be introduced into Burma; 
and in the meantime he would have to begin 
at the bottom and learn to supply with his 
hands and a few simple to6ls what his people 
needed in the way of foot-gear. We wanted 
to teach our boys to meet life as it is in their 
own surroundings. 

He answered (with his mouth) that he under- 
stood; but he went away sorrowful. Some 
wild report of what we offered had spoiled him 
for wholesome labor. This erroneous idea was 
not born of a desire to use modern methods so 
much as to use easy methods. It is the case 
with nearly every Burmese boy that very early 
in life he and work have had trouble — and 
they have parted company. Only stern neces- 



The Industrial Method 24^ 

sity unites them again. So we set out to teach 
them to mix brains with their work to make 
it easy, rather than to depend on mechanical 
power that they could never hope to use. 

We met one of our first problems along this 
line in digging out the earth for the foundation 
of our first building. It is the custom to carry 
the earth in small round baskets. The Burmese 
women are not too proud to carry this load 
on their heads, by far the best and least fatigu- 
ing way for anyone to carry a burden. But 
the men and boys, never. So our pupils hugged 
the baskets to their chests and staggered along 
with great effort to the dumping place. 

We have heard of a missionary in Africa 
who so pitied the poor natives carrying loads 
on their heads that he sent to the homeland for 
a number of wheelbarrows. When they arrived 
he showed the workmen with great delight 
just how to use them, and went away feeling 
that he had made a great strike for the uplift 
of sorely burdened Africa. But what was his 
surprise and chagrin on his return later to see 
the toilers putting a little earth in each barrow, 
and carrying the whole thing on their heads. 

There was no danger of that with us ; but, not 
to risk too much, we had our carpenter make a 
few little wooden-wheeled barrows for the job 



248 In the Land of Pagodas 

in hand. But they were worn out by the boys 
playing horse with them at odd moments. 
It takes a long time to teach custom to right- 
about-face. But we persisted. The Burmans 
can learn much from their kinfolk across the 
Chinese border on the use of wheel-barrows. 
We strove to show the boys and their parents 
that industry and work are not synonymous 
with toil and drudgery. To them (and this is 
not confined to Burma) industry suggests work, 
and work suggests a coolie, and a coolie suggests 
disgrace. We talked like this: Two boys are 
removing some earth. One of them, after 
being compelled to throw aside his basket, 
which he fills with his hands and not over- 
fondly embraces, takes pick, shovel, and wheel- 
barrow. He allows mud to accumulate on the 
end of his shovel, and pushes and strains with 
both hands at the end of the handle. He gives 
a blow with the pick from the height of a foot 
above the ground. He puts his load near the 
handles of the barrow, and trundles away with 
it to the tune of a whining wheel. That is toil. 
He is a coolie — a. servant to his work. The 
other boy keeps his tools sharp, so that he will 
not have to "put to more strength. " His wheel 
is oiled, and he makes it carry most of the 
load. He swings the pick from over his head 



The Industrial Method 24g 

with the aid of his body, and gets a knee-push 
on the shovel handle. He moves twice as much 
material as his companion, with the same 
effort. That is work. He is a master work- 
man — master of his work. It is no disgrace to 
start as a coolie, but it is a disgrace to remain 
one. 

But the talking, however convincing to us, 
did not do much good till we resorted to the 
proved way of saying " Come, boys " rather than 
"Go, boys," and took the lead in the actual 
work. And as the weary months passed, 
gradually some of the boys began to see some 
dignity and joy in labor. By continually ham- 
mering away, the idea of work, if not in every 
case the work itself, was made popular in the 
school. 

While we recognized that agriculture is the 
A B C of all industrial work, and so should be 
taught first in physical education, we found 
ourselves constrained to push a little further 
along in the alphabet in order to meet the 
peculiar conditions of the country. Burma 
specializes on the tilling of the ground; and 
withal does well at it when we take into account 
all the obstacles in the way. Moreover, the 
people want some other kind of technical 
training; and we were led to give them what 



The Industrial Method 2$i 

they wanted so that we might have an attrac- 
tion to the school. 

So we first introduced carpentry, then cane- 
work, and followed with shoe-making. The 
carpentry grew into furniture making as the 
buildings were finished. That we might be 
distinctive, and also that we might the more 
easily get a market for our wares, we adopted 
the mission style of furniture; although we had 
to watch Hong Lee, our Chinese wood- working 
teacher, that he didn't round off all the sharp 
corners. He couldn't sleep well if he finished 
a job and left a square corner. 

An expert cane worker could not be found in 
Burma, although cane furniture brought good 
prices in the Rangoon market. It was shipped 
ready-made from Penang or Singapore. Here 
was our opportunity. After negotiating for 
some time with our missionaries in Singapore, 
we contracted for a Chinese cane worker to 
come up and work for us. His name was 
Woon Chan Koo, and he was originally from 
Canton. He knew only his own dialect and 
Malay; and it was a long journey to take 
alone into a strange country. But he dared, 
and landed from the boat at Rangoon scared 
pale, and clutching wildly at a copy of the 
Review and Herald, which the Singapore workers 



2^2 In the Land of Pagodas 

had given him for identification. Brother 
Votaw met him; but they could not find one of 
his fellow-countrymen along the wharf street 
— and there are thousands of them — who could 
understand his dialect. A bystander observed 
after hearing him talk and trying in vain to 
catch his drift, "Well, that's one kind of a 
Chinaman." 

But we found Woon Chan Koo to be a good 
kind, for he came through all right, and proved 
to be a tireless worker who turned out a first- 
class product. We instructed him by motions 
at first; but he soon picked up enough Burmese 
to express himself, and especially after he 
married a Burmese wife. He and his pupils 
were soon manufacturing chairs and baskets 
by the dozen, for which we found a ready sale. 

Our best business was in leather. For a 
teacher we got a man from India, who had 
learned to make English-style shoes indirectly 
from missionaries. It was hopeless to compete 
with Chinese and Burmese cheap labor and long 
working hours in making the native sandals. 
We did not neglect instruction in this, but led 
on to more difficult makes. American lasts 
and leathers were imported and a specialty 
made of some better styles. We introduced 
the wide turned-up toe, fashionable at that 



254 ^^ ^^^ Land of Pagodas 

time; and soon were supplying missionaries, 
officials, and the many Burmese who are 
adopting Western shoes. Our repair work was 
very extensive. Bright yellow, low-cut shoes 
were in biggest demand with the natives. 

Many boys would not stick to a trade long 
enough to master it; so a deposit of five rupees 
{$1.66) was required of those who started a 
trade, as a guarantee that they would stick 
to it for a year. After they once got to the 
place where they accomplished something worth 
while, there was not much difficulty in keeping 
them at it. Again, they were not anxious 
to work unless they received pay; and we had 
to adapt ourselves to this short-sighted view, 
and yet not spoil the boys. So we paid them 
two pice (one cent) an hour when they did 
more harm than good in waste of material; 
and later they got one anna (two cents) when 
they earned two annas. They understood the 
scheme, but preferred working that way rather 
than getting nothing but increased skill for 
compensation at first. Also we found that we 
could get on with them best, and with the 
least inconvenience to us, if we paid them cash 
in hand for their work, rather than apply their 
wages on their accounts. They wanted to 
handle the coins. 



The Industrial Method 255 

From the very start, the difficulties en- 
countered in keeping the school out of debt 
were constant sources of worry. This state of 
affairs is nothing unusual in many institutions 
and families; but with the school there it had a 
unique setting; and it is of interest to note 
how the good hand of God helped us in our 
extremities. We started out well, being able 
to buy the land and erect one school building 
with the money subscribed locally. This was 
after two years hard pulling. By the close 
of the third year we had a mission home built 
with means supplied by the Mission Board. 

By another strong effort we were able to raise 
sufficient to build our technical arts builcing, 
the same size as the school house. A mat 
teacher's house and boys' dormitory followed 
in due course. So far we were abl,e to keep 
our heads above the waters of debt, but were 
hard pressed. After the first flush of novelty 
had worn off the idea of learning trades, we 
found it more and more difficult to get the 
boys to be enthusiastic over the work we were 
doing. We were trying to change centuries 
of ingrained habit, and it would take a long as 
well as a strong pull. The crisis was approach- 
ing that always threatens a new venture, which 
ends in complete failure on one hand or "getting 
second wind" on the other. 



2^6 In the Land of Pagodas 

Our expense budget came under three heads: 
(i) salaries and general expense for teaching 
the trades; (2) salaries of literary teachers; 
(3) boarding the boys who lived on the campus. 
As to the first: without charging the boys any 
tuition for trades, and by paying them a mini- 
mum wage for salable products, we managed to 
make the trades average self-support. In the 
case of the book-learning department, the small 
tuition we were able to charge — the rate set 
for the government-controlled schools — was not 
nearly sufficient to pay the teachers' salaries — 
this mainly because the attendance was not 
large. The enrollment had run up to one hun- 
dred and forty, but had dropped as we met 
counter-attractions and opposing forces got to 
work. And the boarding department ran be- 
hind because we had taken in a number of 
promising orphans and cast-offs who had no 
money at all. Much of the expense for 
these, however, was made up by interested 
friends in America who supported worthy 
boys. 

As a whole the school was slowly sinking, 
financially, although it had all the ear-marks 
of success in other particulars. We could not 
go on this way and live. What was to be done? 
Of course we were told by those who had 



The Industrial Method 257 

tried to do the same thing we were doing and 
had failed, and by those who opposed the 
whole aim of the school as commendable but 
futile, that they knew that this was just what we 
would come to. For Burmese boys could not be 
induced to work, they said, especially in con- 
nection with a school. They never knew how 
near their prophecy came true. So it was 
driven home to us that we had better give up 
our dream of technical education, settle back 
to a literary school like all the others in the 
country — and accept government aid. 

That question of government aid had been 
our stumbling block from the first. The govern- 
ment of India and Burma has a system whereby 
private or mission schools may receive financial 
aid from the Government to the extent of half 
of the cost of buildings and half of the teacher's 
salaries. (There are no public schools in Burma 
such as are in the United States). Naturally, 
in return for such help, the Government Edu- 
cational Department claims a hold on all aided 
institutions. In order to regulate them and have 
a uniform course of study, standard text books, 
and properly qualified teachers, a curriculum 
is outlined, texts are approved, and teachers are 
required to pass government examinations, be- 
fore aid is granted. 
9 



The Industrial Method 25 q 

Nearly all schools conform, and accept this 
aid, being unable to maintain themselves with- 
out it and at the same time compete success- 
fully with other institutions. And there were a 
great many reasons why we also should accept 
it; for we were not at all opposed to it in prin- 
ciple, nor were we teaching anything that would 
tend to make us outlaws or seditionists. Yet 
we struggled on for five years without a pice 
from it. On the opening of our work we were 
urged to. take the aid — urged by government 
officials, and it was a very grave question for 
some time whether we would or not. We 
decided against it, at least till we had tried the 
other way. And this because we felt that we 
must be free if we expected to develop our ideals 
successfully. 

To follow the Government outlined course 
exactly would mean that we would have ver}'- 
little time for anything else. Other mission 
schools were finding difficulty to add Bible 
study and general Christian work to their 
program, subjects for which the prescribed 
curriculum made no provision. How could we 
find time for several hours a day for trade 
teaching also? With an easy-going people in a 
tropic clime, who were not given to study or 
energetic effort, it could not be done. 



26o In the Land of Pagodas 

So we compromised by eliminating some 
literary subjects which were not necessary for 
a boy who was to learn a trade, correlated 
studies as much as possible, taught the boys 
healthful, steady habits, and sought God's 
blessing on our efforts. And thus we were 
able to get in a full program of practical work. 

Then came the climax of our struggle. A 
conference of government officials, merchants, 
and manufacturers was called at Rangoon to 
determine what could be done in the way of 
technical education in the province. One man 
who was present told me afterward that they 
closed the conference with the settled conviction 
that nothing could be done, or at any rate that the 
time was not ripe for a beginning. Some sloyd 
subjects had been introduced into the schools, 
but they were largely optional, and met with 
little favor. 

But before and after this conference we were 
toiling along, trying hard to prove something 
to the country and ourselves, and to all appear- 
ances making a complete fizzle of it. It is 
plain to be seen now that all that was needed 
was a connecting up of our interests and those 
of the Government. We could at least partly 
solve their problem of technical education, and 
they could wholly solve our financial one. Just 



The Industrial Method 261 

when we were in our most dire straits, one day 
the commissioner of education in our district 
made us an unsohcited visit. He took a thorough 
view of the whole plant, and asked many 
questions. When he was ready to leave he 
ejaculated, "Well, you are doing just what that 
conference in Rangoon said couldn't be done." 

Almost immediately we heard trom the Edu- 
cational Department, urging that we take steps 
to get recognition. It was with some mis- 
givings that we entered into negotiations with 
the officials. But red tape seemed to be the 
chief obstacle in the way, and they were very 
willing to make concessions for our sakes, since 
they recognized that we had really made a 
creditable beginning at teaching trades to Bur- 
mese youth. 

After that the way was easy. We were 
given permission to substitute technical subjects 
for literary, under certain restrictions, which 
were very reasonable; and the elementary hand 
work was adapted to our needs. 

Thus our land and buildings are freehold 
still, because we paid in full for them. Half 
of the teachers' salaries are paid by the Govern- 
ment, with the privilege of withdrawing from 
this arrangement at the end of any school 
year, if we so choose. With government recog- 



262 In the Land of Pagodas 

nition as a drawing card, and through the 
efficient management of my successor in the 
school, Don C. Ludington, the enrollment has 
doubled, and brighter days are ahead. The 
institution is self-supporting, and boasts a 
surplus each year, a degree of material pros- 
perity beyond the hope of its most sanguine 
well-wishers. 



CHAPTER XV 

THE EVERYDAY OF MISSIONARY LIFE 

WE HAD been speaking of some diffi- 
culties, financial and otherwise, of living 
in a foreign land as a missionary, when 
a friend exclaimed, "Why don't you live like 
the natives? You say they live on a few cents a 
day." And our answer was, "Because we 
don't want to die like the natives." But this 
is only part of the answer that the question 
deserves. The home-come missionary meets 
also the following: "How do you like living over 
there? Can you really get used to it so that 
it seems like home? Did a snake ever get into 
your bed? How many tigers" — etc., etc., etc. 
All such questions are perfectly natural, and 
deserve fair answers. There are thousands of 
stories of how people on the other side of the 
world live, and many of them are contradic- 
tory. Yet we sincerely believe that nearly all 
who tell them aim to give a true picture. Mis- 
sionaries particularly seek to make correct im- 
pressions, nor do they knowingly exaggerate. 

263 



The Everyday of Missionary Life 265 

So we wonder where false impressions originate. 

Ask three residents of the United States how 
people live in this country, when one of the three 
was reared in New York City, another in an 
Arizona desert, and the third on a North 
Dakota farm. They may all tell the exact 
truth and flatly contradict one another. But 
America is a big country. Yes, and so is the 
Indian Empire, with much more varied a 
climate and population. We will not take space 
to elucidate this, as any good book on life in 
southern Asia will show it. Reporters' view- 
points differ according to their immediate sur- 
roundings and the features which impress them 
most. 

We will tell something of what it means for a 
missionary to live in Burma. Frankly, we did not 
like to live there — at first .^ Or perhaps I had 
better say, at second. For at first our curiosity 
was daily keyed up by fresh surprises and the 
newness of all of it, to the extent that life was 
a series of adventures. This keenness soon 
passed away, though not entirely, as there is 
always something new to learn in these countries 
as at home. 

When we settled down to the routine life, then 
came the really hard part, the period between 
adventure and accomplishment. This time of 



266 In the Land of Pagodas 

adaptation is tided over by resoluteness of soul, 
a firm trust in the guidance of God, and a 
finding of comfort in memories and hopes. Home- 
sickness of the most virulent type will come with 
its heartsinkings, a few strange, acute aliments 
pester the body, and unsympathetic surround- 
ings and unsatisfactory living conditions gener- 
ally try the patience of the soul experience. 

But the missionary goes forth expecting such 
enemies to try his steel. And they are only 
passing troubles. When the language is gotten 
sufficiently so that he can converse on simple 
topics with the people, say by the end of the 
first year or before ; when he gets well acclimated, 
which does not come much before the third 
year; and when he sees the needy helped by, 
and appreciative of, his efforts — then he begins 
to get into the heart of native life. And there 
is always high satisfaction in working with the 
hearts of any people. 

After three years we wanted to stay in Burma 
for all time, although of course there is always 
a longing to visit the home folks once in a 
great while; but even this wears away with the 
years and a furlough or two. And after being 
compelled to leave the field and stay away for a 
few years, we find the longing ever present to 
return to Burma for good. Kver}^ home-tied 



The Everyday of Missionary Life 267 

missionary testifies to this heart hunger for the 
land of his exploits for God. 

As to wild beasts and reptiles, much depends 
upon where the mission home is located. Wild 
animals do not attack man unless they are 
driven to it, or unless he purposely or acci- 
dentally disturbs them in their haunts. During 
our whole experience we never saw a wild 
elephant, never a tiger or a cobra or a wild 
boar except in a zoo, and very few deer, snakes, 
and monkeys. Deer barking and monkey 
chattering are common sounds in the hills, but 
it is difficult to get near the animals themselves. 

One dark night we were riding down a steep 
road with our feet dangling out of the rear end 
of a native cart. Suddenly a chetah, a mild 
leopard-like member of the cat family who dotes 
on dog flesh, made a wild leap from an over- 
hanging bank in an effort to seize our cartman's 
dog. He succeeded in badly scaring the canine 
and in making our blood run cold, but other- 
wise we suffered no harm. 

We have seen four-inch centipedes as thick 
as your finger wiggle toward us across the 
living room floor; and have roused out whole 
nests of scorpions from the mat walls of our 
house; but it required little effort to keep away 
from the poison of these little pests and to 
dispatch them in a hurry. 



268 In the Land of Pagodas 

Our worst experience with a snake occurred 
one night when we were returning from a visit. 
Snakes hke to stretch out in the dust of the 
road in the moonhght, and it is well to be on 
the watch for them. Merwin, our oldest boy, 
was wheehng his little sister in a go-cart just 
ahead of me; the wheel must have run over one 
of these snakes, and then the boy stepped on it. 
He was wearing sandals and the reptile curled 
up and bit him on the instep. He shouted out 
with great pain and I urged his mother on to the 
house with him to get the wound opened up, 
while I stayed for a minute to kill and secure 
the snake so that we could see if it were poison- 
ous. 

In a few minutes our Burmese servant came 
running with a light, and on investigation said 
that the one I had killed was very deadly, and 
that we must do something for Merwin im- 
mediately if we would save his life. Meanwhile 
the boy was rolling on the floor in agony as the 
pain increased. We were distracted to know 
what to do and resorted to sucking the wound 
to get out the poison; but the servant took a 
light and ran out into the field to get the leaves 
of a certain weed that is known to be good 
in such a case. When these leaves were rubbed 
into the bite it seemed to help a little, and after 
some time Merwin went to sleep. 



The Everyday of Missionary Life zdg 

We prayed earnestly for his life and were 
gratified to find him not getting any worse. 
He was unable to walk for several days but in 




Interior of the Mission House at Meiktila, Showing how Homelike 
it May be Made, Even to the Cat 

a fortnight was all over the effects of the acci- 
dent. Our man attributed his recovery partly 
to the weed leaves and partly to the fact that 
the snake was a young member of the species, 
whose poison was not so virulent as that of 
mature ones. 

We found that it was best to keep the yard 
immediately around the house free from growth 
of any kind, even grass, and this had a tendency 



2/0 In the Land of Pagodas 

to keep reptiles at a distance. Altogether, I do 
not believe we saw any larger number of snakes 
in Burma than we have seen during the same 
length of time in America. 

We did not live like the natives in Burma. 
Dr. Brown, in his book. The Foreign Missionary, 
says, "The natives do not live; they die." The 
mortality is fearful. Ignorance and unsanitary 
conditions make for disease and death at a rate 
unknown in western lands. Burma is prolific 
in children, but oh how fast they die! The land 
would be in continual mourning if death affected 
them as seriously as it does some. 

Another reason why the missionaries do not 
live like the natives is because western dress 
has grown to be distinctive of authority, and 
in some cases, of superiority; so it commands 
their respect, just as does a white face. These 
things are badges of power to the native and ap- 
peal to his sense of respect for leadership. 

Again, foreigners can not get so accustomed 
to the climate that they can go about in native 
costume, bareheaded. However, missionaries 
come as near being like the sons of the soil as 
possible, so that they may better understand 
the native mind and heart. And there is no 
question but that the nearer one comes to living 
as they do, the cheaper will his living be. But, 



The Everyday of Missionary Life 2yi 

considering the standards the missionary must 
maintain, with all the economy he can practise, 
he will find that living costs are just about the 
same as in America. Certain foods are cheaper, 
such as rice and fruits; but some foods that he 
must have in poor seasons, and for a change of 
diet, must come from abroad and are costly. 
A suit of light clothes costs less, but he must 
needs have several of them and have them 
washed often. Rents are lower, but what is 
saved there is eaten up in servant hire. 

A few servants are absolutely necessary. 
The full complement of a household is supposed 
to be seventeen. But missionaries get along 
with one or two full-time, and a few part-time, 
helpers. Because the servant class are usually 
Indians, and caste-bound, it is difficult to get 
them to do more than one line of work. The 
cook is the necessity, because of the heat. But 
he doesn't want to wash dishes nor wait on the 
table; and he simply won't sweep, for cleaning 
is considered one of the lowest of scavenger jobs. 

Missionaries must have servants, because 
both man and wife are not sent to the field to 
drudge and hang over a fire, but to win souls. 
But a few servants are not expensive luxuries. 
Their wages are low, ranging from $5 to $10 a 
month, they finding their own food, although 



272 In the Land of Pagodas 

they "find" much of it by Httle bits filched from 
what is doled out to be cooked for master's 
table. But to the servant this is not stealing. 
It is "custom." That word is the excuse for 
many a privilege taken at the expense of the 
household budget. 

The kitchen is a separate building back of 
the house. Its stove is a solid stone, brick, or 
cement table-like affair with large niches in the 
top to contain the fire. Wood is the fuel and the 
smoke escapes as it may, through door, window, 
or an open-work roof. The Indian chef concocts 
some dainty and tasty dishes with his crude 
apparatus. He bakes an excellent cake in an 
old oil can for an oven, and boils rice to flaky 
perfection. 

It is morning of an ordinary day in our mis- 
sion home. We rise at six and resort to the 
bathroom for a cool pour. Off every bedroom is 
the ten-by-twelve bath and toilet room, not, 
however, the elaborate affair of the West. A 
cement floor, with a three-inch hole in the corner 
for an outlet, with a large earthen jar of water 
and other toilet articles for furniture — this is 
the bathroom. 

Once up and around we brew a hot drink over 
a litle oil stove and sip it to the accompaniment 
of a slice of toast for "little breakfast." 



The Everyday of Missionary Life 27J 

The cook has not appeared yet. Under in- 
struction from the night before he is off at 
dayhght to bazaar to buy the day's food. If 
it were big bazaar day( big bazaar conies every 
fifth day) we would go too, to meet the people 
from the whole countryside, to get a change from 
routine, and for economy in buying. But the 
cook does fairly well ; in fact he gets food cheaper 
than we can from the dealers, though before it 
reaches us it is diminished in weight. Be it 
known that bazaar is market, a central in- 
closure where everyone goes to buy or sell 
everything. 

As we bustle about the house, the dude 
wallah (milk man) knocks at the door. He has 
come at a swinging walk with two pails of milk 
slung from a pole over one shoulder. The 
liquid would spill over with this motion were it 
not that, as he passed a straw stack or tree, he 
grabbed a handful of straw or twigs to put 
into it. As he squats on the door step we put 
down a container, and wink our eyes as he bares 
one arm to the elbow, plunges a dirty hand to the 
bottom of the milk and fishes out his two 
measuring cups. Full measure given, he throws 
in a little for backsheesh (a present), and wipes 
up the spilled drops from the floor with the 
bare hand, which goes into the next customer's 



2^4 ^^ ^^^ Land of Pagodas 

milk. But never mind, we can't change him. 
We tried having him bring our milk in a bottle, 
but we could never be sure about the bottles 
being clean, and he always brought it immersed 
in the other milk. So we strain and boil his 
product, and let not our appetites know what 
our eyes see. 

The mater is next on hand. He is the general 
scavenger, and always carries a broom, a stocky 
bunch of coarse straws which are set so far 
apart at their business ends that we wonder 
how its wielder ever manages to move the dust. 
But he does a fair piece of cleaning, if we insist 
on it, though the corners get scant attention. 

This is the morning for the dhobi (laundry- 
man). He appears, almost hidden under a 
snow-white bundle of clothes, and we get out 
the dhobi book, a record of what he took last 
week. He lays out the clean linen on bed and 
table and chairs, each kind by itself, counting 
them over in a droning monotone, as mem- 
sahib (the mistress of the house) checks them 
off. He is severely admonished to be sure to 
bring next time one or two articles that are 
missing, and roundly scolded for having broken 
off thirteen buttons in this week's wash. He 
bows to the floor in humility and promises any- 
thing, only that mem-sahib shall be pleased. He 



The Everyday of Missionary Life 275 

has washed the clothes by beating them on a 
stone by the lake side, and stretching them on 
the grass to dry. It is surprising how snowy 
they are, and starched collars are finished 
first-class. All this for $1.60 a hundred pieces, 
regardless of size. Then we give him the soiled 
linen for this week, counting it all over care- 
fully, and send him away with a pleasant word. 

Next the rotie wallah with his bread basket 
on his head summons us with his call, and 
supplies a good quality of white bread. The 
cloth he has over it isn't the cleanest, and 
someone tells us he sleeps on his mixing board; 
but you can't believe all you hear. Anyway this 
is the only way to get bread, for cook can't 
bake it. 

Then the pannie wallah, (water carrier), 
bent almost double with a huge pig-skin of water 
on his back, comes laboring up the steps and 
fills the jars in the bathroom with a swish. 
Also the five gallon can for drinking water is 
filled. When cook comes he will boil this, and 
put it in a porous earthen jar on a stand in the 
dining room ; it will be cool (that is, as cool 
as water gets in Burma, which is usually luke- 
warm) for tomorrow. It must be carefully 
strained, too, for the pannie wallah walked 
right into the lake to get it, where hundreds of 



2'j6 In the Land of Pagodas 

others walk every day for the same purpose. 

Cook is back from bazaar, and is doled out 

food for breakfast, which is served at 10:30. 

Meanwhile the missionary man has been about 





Our Water Was Brought from the Lake in a Barrel on Wheels 

his duties in school, evangelistic work, or 
mission business. School began early, and this 
is the midday recess. 

The meal is of dahl, grains and milk, rice 
and curry, and fruit. Appetites are none too 
good, but there is a relish notwithstanding. 
Cook waits on table (with rather poor grace, for 
it is a disgrace) carrying over his shoulder his 



The Everyday of Missionary Life 2yy 

general-purpose cloth (if we let him). This 
cloth does duty for a dozen uses, from handling 
hot dishes to wiping his hands and face — even 
to use as a drinking-water strainer, if the 
mem-sahib isn't particular. All of which goes 
to show that if we keep well in Burma we must 
watch our servants, our food and water, and our 
general surroundings, and yet not be too finicky 
about dirt if it is clean, and about germs if 
they are dead. 

In the middle of the day the missionary 
ought to take a siesta — a nap of two hours' 
duration — if he would be one with the people, 
and be sensible. The failure to do this has 
sent many a worker home. After rest-hour, 
reading and study are indulged. 

As four o'clock approaches we take a shower 
bath with our dipper, and change to clean 
clothing. Four is the calling hour, from then 
till six. There is a social call or two to be made, 
which is a part of the missionary's work. Social 
calls mean a great deal in the East, and open the 
way for gospel work. Of course at these hours 
also we remain at home, on certain days, and 
receive callers. We find our neighbors devoting 
plenty of time in their calendars for hospitality 
and visiting; but it must be done at a certain 
time in the day, when all are dressed up for it. 



2^8 In the Land of Pagodas 

At other hours, comfort in a warm dime demands 
a state of undress unpresentable for cahers, in 
their estimation. 

Six o'clock or thereabouts finds us at dinner, 
though the people generally, foreigners and all, 
eat their most elaborate meal at eight. Ours 
is a Burmo-American vegetable dinner, served 
in three or four courses. 

Later evening is the opportune time for round- 
ing off the day's work in visiting interested 
behevers and the sick, giving pictured Bible 
lectures in the village, planning the next day's 
work, and in reading or study. Before ten we 
are in bed, to complete a perfect missionary 
day. 

The life is ideal and fascinating, after we settle 
down to it. Mingled with toil and the common- 
place are the hundred and one passing interests 
and attractions which make life anywhere a 
joy — the quaintness and simplicity of the jungle 
folk; the freshness of early morning; the squeak 
of cart wheels and the distant drumming of 
native music; the hollow tapping of cow-bells 
and the bleating of goats; thernajesty and force 
of storms and the dead quiet of noondays; the 
clearness of rainbows and most glorious of sunsets; 
the purple haze of twilight, and an endless 
variety of lures and delights that make Burrna 



The Everyday of Missionary Life 2'/q 

Burma. While the same as other lands in many- 
respects, yet it is different in its very similarity 
- — which paradox needs to be lived in order 
to be understood. 




A Missionary Group at the II;!! Stui >n. Kjl.iw 



CHAPTI^R XIV 

THE REWARDS OF LABOR 

THE rewards of a missionary's labor are 
souls won for Christ. There are other 
rewards, and the worker gets his thrills 
and satisfaction from stations established, litera- 
ture distributed, large school attendances, build- 
ings erected, and reputations gained; but these 
are as nothing beside the real reward. It is the 
final incentive that keeps him in the field at 
work amid strain and loss and sickness and 
utter discouragement. The wise man said, 
(and he knew) " He that winneth souls is wise. " 
He might have added, " and happy. " 

So, not to say there are no joys of living and 
seeing, of accomplishing and sacrificing for a 
good cause, we will simply leave them out of this 
story. And because there is a strong desire 
on the part of the folks at home to know things 
as they are in the mission field, we will begin 
with a failure — that is, a seeming failure now; 
but the end is not yet. The hero days of the 
mission endeavor are not past; but to tell the 
280 



The Rewards of Labor 281 

truth about the work so that the reader gets 
a true picture, it is necessary to notice the plod- 
ding heroes as well as the meteoric ones. 

Christian readers of these lines can never 
know the long trail that leads from rank heathen 
customs, modes of thought, and moral ideals, 
to the heights of Christianity. From the human 
standpoint it is small wonder that some stumble 
in the Way, and fall to rise again no more. 
The wonder is that they continue at all, with 
all there is to overcome. But God's love and 
power are wonders, and that's how they can 
— and do. Would you see a life now in the 
making upward, with its ups and downs — just 
now, downs? Would you follow a biography 
the sequel of which is yet to be written because 
it is yet to be lived? Then read the story of 
Ba Sain (we will call him Ba Sain because that 
is not his name). Every missionary has these 
unfinished biographies stored away in his heart, 
which are added to from day to day. And 
each is unfinished because he still hopes and 
prays and works to the purpose that the last 
chapter shall be as happy as the latest is dis- 
heartening. 

Ba Sain boarded the train with all the non- 
chalance of his fifteen Burman years. Head up, 
walk a swagger, lips ready to accost any and 



282 In the Lafid of Pagodas 

every one with a pleasantry, he sat down on the 
narrow board seat of the third-class compart- 
ment, and deposited his bundle by his side. 
With the same air, he lighted a cigarette, and 
blew smoke out the window, his feet perched on 
the opposite seat. He looked the personi- 
fication of self-satisfaction. Nothing mattered. 

But this was all on the outside. Ba Sain was 
troubled. The careless demeanor v/as habitual, 
but beneath it there slumbered a conscience. 
He wanted satisfaction, that boon we all want. 
His mother had been a Buddhist nun, and had 
lost her mind; and his father was rather in- 
different about him. He was going to live with 
his married sister in Rangoon. Perhaps the 
great city held what he desired. 

The long train curved snakelike among the 
far-reaching ricefields, Ba Sain looked out, but 
did not see. He was thinking of a legend of the 
great Gautama, which his father had told him 
that day. In a former existence, Gautama had 
been a calf, and when his mother drank at the 
brook, he inadvertently drank from a little way 
up-stream, and muddied the water which his 
mother was drinking. For this breach of good 
manners he was fated forever after to have all 
water become muddy as soon as he raised it to 
his lips. Strange truth, this! 



The Rewards of Labor 



283 




Worshipping before a lUiddh:! in a ?^a<rjHl 111 



Ba Sain recalled a recent experience in which 
his susceptible conscience had been overurged 
to get him to seek the jungle places near Maul- 



284 I'h the Land of Pagodas 

main, where the priests Hved an ascetic Hfe and 
had to be supported in their walk because their 
food was "vegetation." He sought the peace 
they seemed to have, but it was not for him. 
Perhaps the Good Man would yet lead him in 
the true way. But just now he was on the 
point of giving up everything that disciplined, 
and starting to do just as he pleased. What 
was the use of trying, anyway? Other people 
were happy, why shouldn't he be? This endless 
trying- to-do-right-and-can't was maddening. 
The Christians were the best favored, and hadn't 
their God helped them to rule almost the whole 
world? Yet every one said that Burma had 
become more wicked, and that there was more 
disease, since the Christians came. The puzzle 
of things as they are was too much for him. 
As the train rolled on, vague plans for the 
future became a part of his reverie — vague 
because he knew so little about the city and 
its ways. With but a change of clothing and 
his ticket to Rangoon, he must now make 
his own way in the world ; and what place would 
his scant education find for him? He was eager 
and willing, but — Nicotine just then called for 
another puff, and on suiting the action to the 
desire, he found that the cigarette had "gone 
dead." And his matches were gone, too. How 



The Rewards of Labor 28$ 

careless! (No, how providential!) He looked 
around, and saw a man and a boy watching 
him. 

"Is there a match with you?" he asked; and 
after he said it, he noticed that the man had 
been reading a book, and there was a pleased 
expression on his face. 

"No," came the answer, "I don't drink 
smoke; so I have no need of matches." 

"Strange," thought Ba Sain; and he asked 
aloud, "What book do you read?" 

"The Bible." 

"O, a Christian!" and there was a tone of 
dampened friendliness in his voice. "You are 
a Christian, and you don't drink smoke? 
How is that? I learned to smoke cigarettes in 
a Christian school. Doesn't the Christian's 
God drink smoke?" This in a bantering 
voice. 

The man looked displeased, and the boy 
laughed. 

"No, God doesn't drink smoke; and true, 
enlightened Christians do not either. It is a 
bad habit, bad for the body, and the mind, 
and the heart. I know a Christian school where 
neither the teachers nor the boys drink smoke. 
I wish you could go there." 

Well, here was a new thing in Burma, and 



286 In the Land of Pagodas 

Ba Sain caught at the idea. He was informed 
of a school at Meiktila where the boys were 
taught morals and hand-work as well as the 
book lessons the other schools taught. Yes, 
poor boys could have a chance; for the tuition 
fees were low, and if a boy were diligent he 
could earn his way. He would emerge from 
the school with a trade, a character, and a 
trained mind. 

Ba Sain questioned in his mind about "coolie 
work" being in any way desirable, but here 
was a chance to get "book learning," and it 
was not to be scorned. This well-appearing man 
was a teacher in the school, and was now on his 
way there. Perhaps it was all untrue; but he 
was absorbed in it, and the time passed quickly 
till the train arrived at Pegu. Here the erst- 
while fellow-travelers parted, and in two hours 
Ba Sain was being jostled by the crowd at the 
Rangoon station. 

His sister lived in a poorer section of the 
noisy city. Burma's metropolis seethed like a 
caldron at this season. The intense heat was 
accentuated by the crowded condition. The 
choky dust, the filth of the foreign element, 
the rabble among whom he was as nothing, dis- 
gusted him in a short time. What chance here 
without money? Then he opened his heart 



The Rewards of Labor 28'/ 

about that school, and a sympathetic sister 
heard with interest. It appealed to them. 
A will was born, and a way was sure to follow. 
Somehow she got together ten rupees for him, 
and half of it was spent for a ticket to Meiktila. 
God bless her sacrifice! She is dead now, but 
that was the greatest thing she ever did. 

The boy came without previous notice or 
arrangement ; and the next morning, before day- 
light, he was landed at the "desired haven," 
but hardly knowing "whither he went." There 
were no likely persons astir to guide him, so he 
sat down on a step and waited — waited for 
some one to come; for he was sure some one 
would come. At daylight the very boy whom 
he had seen with the teacher on the train passed 
that way. Hailing him and making explana- 
tions, the rest was easy. We took him on the 
recommendation of his efforts to reach us. 

At first he was disappointed. His natural 
love of a big show was not satisfied. There was 
only a rented building, and no school com- 
pound. No trades were taught yet, and there 
were but few boys, compared with the school 
he had attended. But it offered a better chance 
for an education than did Rangoon or home. 
Little did he realize that an institution is as 
great as its principles, and that the most privi- 



288 In the Land of Pagodas 

leged persons in the world are those who do not 
despise the "day of small things," but are 
pioneers in a noble work. The teachers treated 
him kindly, and took a personal interest in 
helping him to improve; and soon he felt at 
home, with one exception — the hated Chris- 
tianity. 

He had held the indifference of youth, even 
to Buddhism, before; but now that he was 
feeling its hold on him loosen almost before he 
knew it, he was roused to fight for it with 
desperation. Ba Sain was honest and energetic, 
and these very traits made him an ardent 
disciple of Gautama, when his cause was assailed. 
But nothing was said to discountenance his 
faith in the Buddha. The simple truth was told, 
but it brought forth many a hard-fought 
argument with the teachers. And this worthy 
champion of heathenism had the self-confidence 
to believe that he could reason the best. Perhaps 
he was right. But there was that Book. He 
couldn't fight a book, and yet its contents and 
spirit were fighting him every day. 

Like others who, in spite of their pride, are 
compelled to acknowledge to themselves that 
they are gradually losing ground, Ba Sain now 
tried to hide his discomfiture by smoking, 
by learning to swear in English and practising 



The Rewards of Labor 28Q 

the art in the hearing of the missionaries, and 
by making himself generally objectionable. Con- 
tempt was his last weakhold. His cult sadly 
needed defending, but he had made poor work 
at its defense. 

Down by the lake, one day, he sat despond- 
ently looking at the lap of the wavelets on the 
pebbly shore. All at once, in that way familiar 
to Christians who seek God, there flashed into 
his prejudiced mind a little light. Why, these 
people had the satisfaction that he had vainly 
sought! Their religion helped them to live 
lives of peace in spite of the glaring incon- 
sistencies of its believers. And after all, isn't 
that all that is worth while? Surely the truth 
alone can beget peace. Why hadn't he seen it 
before? Gautama tells us how to do right, but 
Christ helps us do it. The great gospel truths 
which had been seeking entrance to his heart, 
had at last found lodgment. And once entered, 
they pervaded his whole knowledge, and suffused 
his entire thought and life. Gautama merits. 
Jesus saves. This is Christianity. O that he 
had only known it before! Every one would 
accept it if they only knew. He must tell them. 
And right there was born in his soul the saving 
spirit that was not to pass away. Again nothing 

mattered, but how different the feeling! 
10 



2gQ In the Land of Pagodas 

Ba Sain was forward, and fought a good battle 
on either side, when he was sure he was right. 
He grasped the Bible truths with avidity, and 
imparted as he learned. At almost one stroke 
he stood forth a man in Christ. Rarely are seen 
changes so complete as his. Enslaving habits 
were dethroned ; the feasts and fasts and foolish- 
ness of Gautama-as-he-is-worshiped lost their 
lure ; rice and curry became secondary ; and he 
boldly sought "first the kingdom." No work 
was too hard, no place too humble. Like Samuel, 
he delighted to keep in order the house of God. 
Nothing pleased him better than to lead his 
schoolmates to Christ. Three years from the 
time he came to us, he was preceptor in the 
school. Rising bravely above objectionable 
character traits within and strong opposition 
from without, he stood, just merging into man- 
hood, at the beginning of usefulness for God, 
a trusted ^ servant, an intelligent student, an 
energetic worker, a monument to missionary 
effort. 

Then came a change, gradual at first, so that 
we did not realize its significance till it was too 
late to stave off the catastrophe. Perhaps we 
were over-confident, and we, as well as he, had 
to be taught a lesson. For our hopes centered 
in Ba Sain as our first fruits, an example to the 



The Rewards of Labor 2qi 

flock. Little did we think that he was to fall. 
And when he did fall, the bottom seemed to 
have dropped out of our effort. If Ba Sain 
could not stand, who could? And what was 
the use of working for them? How much we 
had to learn in not trusting to appearances, and 
in not judging all by one. 

Without any warning, the boy suddenly dis- 
appeared. We found that he had borrowed 
what money he could from his associates, and 
had gone no one knew where. In western 
countries it is not easy for a boy to run away 
from home and friends. Usually, after a brush 
against the cold world, he is glad enough to 
return. We say of the truant, "O, he'll come 
back." But the world isn't cold in Burma, 
physically or socially. No fire is absolutely 
necessary except to cook food, and fifty cents 
would buy enough clothing for a year's wear. 
Food is cheap, and the people are hospitable. 
It is surprising how they will take in total 
strangers and feed them for days at a time, pass- 
ing them on to neighbors when it gets to be an 
old story. As a last resort the runaway may easily 
join the priests, shave his. head and don a 
yellow robe, and through the medium of the 
begging bowl procure a good living with little 
effort. 



2g2 In the Landlpf Pagodas 

But our young student sought the friends of 
his childhood who had became gay youths. 
Being of good address, and with a pohsh and 
education that had been given him at great 
sacrifice, he soon secured a position as a clerk 
in a European store at a good wage. There was 
much idle time, and this was spent in fulfilling 
the desires of his heart. Thanks to his training 
and the real presence of God in his life, he did 
not go to the limit in riotous living. But 
misfortune came. Some of the things he had 
bought were stolen; and the trunk containing 
all his clothes fell off a ferry-boat into the 
river. 

All this we did not know till afterward. 
Several months after he had disappeared he 
came among us as suddenly and as unexpectedly 
as he had gone. In spirit, we received him as 
the father did the prodigal, and his heart was 
melted. Ever since, he has called me his father, 
and I am his father today. He made restitution 
in every way he could; and humbly started at 
the beginning again to win back his reputa- 
tion. There were scars left that could not be 
effaced; but are any lives free from them? 
He rose higher and higher in trustworthiness, 
and became especially noted for industry and 
honesty. 



The Rewards of Labor 2QS 

A year passed, and changes were made in the 
school. We were transferred to Rangoon, and 
Ba Sain was bitterly disappointed at our 
leaving. He was very jealously attached to those 
who had brought him the light, as are all who 
come out of darkness. Long used to visible 
objects of worship, it is difficult for them to 
see the invisible, and so they become devotedly 
attached to their immediate benefactors. 

He wanted to try selling the products of our 
shoe-making department on the road; so he 
was sent to travel about the country and take 
orders. He started with high hopes, and shoes 
by parcel post were being sent on his trail 
at a good rate. Then suddenly the orders ceased 
coming, and he disappeared. Weeks passed, 
and we could find no trace of him anywhere. 
Had he failed us again? It seemed hopeless to 
try to help him; but we clung to our faith. 

One day, long after he had dropped out of our 
knowledge, I received a letter from him at an 
address I had never known. It told a strange 
story. He had visited his old home in his 
travels; and his father and older brother had 
concocted a scheme to rescue him from the 
clutches of Christianity, since they believed he 
had been forced, or duped, into accepting it, 
and had been imprisoned at the school. While 



2g4 1^^ ihe Land of Pagodas 

he slept they took away his clothes, and left 
only the barest necessities for decency. Later 
his brother, who was a forest guard in the 
employ of the government, took him away off 
into the jungle country many miles from the 
railroad, and kept him there by force. But 
the boy managed to communicate with me 
through another guard he had met, who mailed 
his letter. He wanted me to tell him what 
to do. 

I was rather non-commital in my answer, for 
the law provides that children, even when they 
attain considerable age, are under the control 
of their parents and older brothers. My letter 
might fall into the hands of the brother, and I 
did not want to misrepresent the Christian 
attitude. That is just what happened to the 
letter; and the captive was placed under more 
careful watch. 

We prayed, and Ba Sain planned; and at 
last he made his escape. With difficulty he made 
his way to our nearest station only half clothed, 
and there received money to pay for clothing 
and his fare to Rangoon. This experience had a 
sobering effect upon him, and he was more than 
ever moved to work for God. 

About this time we were opening a training 
school at Lucknow, India, for higher students to 



The Rewards of Labor 2Q^ 

get a final fitting for gospel work. It seemed 
best to send Ba Sain there for the course of two 
years. Soon reports came that he was doing 
good work in the school, and he wrote glowing 
letters" of his joy in the work. He was allowed 




The Class at Woodwork in the Industrial Building 

five rupees (about $i.6o) a month for doing 
extra work, and with this he bought, one at a 
time, most of our denominational books, and 
read them diligently. As the period of his 
training neared completion he gave more and 



2g6 In the Land of Pagodas 

more promise of becoming a successful evangel- 
ist for his own people. 

But there was something the matter with 
Ba Sain. Perhaps he was too forward and 
independent. He had a misunderstanding with 
some of hisfsuperiors, and ended by going back 
to Burma and taking a position as an office 
worker with a commercial firm in Rangoon. 
And there he is today. But he writes that there 
is still something tugging at his heart, urging 
him to give this message to his people. 

In spite of his many failures, Ba Sain was 
always an inspiration to me, because of the 
wonderful transformation that was worked by 
God in his life. He was my first-born in Burma 
— the firstfruit of labor. 



An entirely different story is that of Peter, 
the Karen boy. Pastor Votaw had stood forth 
in the General Conference of 1909 and had 
eloquently pleaded for this people in these 
burning words: 

"I must speak in terms the strongest that I 
can command in regard to the crying need of 
laborers to begin work among the Karens. 
I feel sure that no yet unentered territory pre- 
sents so strong a plea for help, and it is a ques- 



The Rewards of Labor 2g'/ 

tion in my mind whether any call for help which 
has been, or shall be, presented at this Con- 
ference is deserving of more immediate con- 
sideration than this plea. Ever since we have 
lived in Burma, we have written and pleaded for 
some one to come to give this glorious message 
to the simple-minded hill folk of the mountains 
of Burma. Possessing such traditions as they 
do, they are peculiarly susceptible to the 
influence of the gospel. Many have speculated 
concerning the folklore of the Karens. Where 
and how did they obtain it? It is jealously 
guarded, and handed down from generation to 
generation. In outline, if not in absolute 
detail, it agrees with the Scriptural narrative, 
including the account of the forming of woman 
from the rib of man, the fall, the flood, etc. 
'Because that when they knew God, they 
glorified him not as God, ' the knowledge of 
their Creator was withdrawn from them, not, 
however, without the promise being left to them 
that the knowledge of the true God should 
again be brought to these whom he had tempo- 
rarily cast off. 'White foreigners,' coming in 
ships, were to be the bearers of the good tidings. 
Those who have not yet accepted Christianity 
represent their present condition by the follow- 
ing illustration: A father and his children were 



2o8 In the Land of Pagodas 

traversing a narrow foot-path on the moun- 
tain-side. At a convenient place on a ledge of 
rock the father left his children while he went 
elsewhere. A tiger was seen approaching. 
Seized by fear, the children, to save them- 
selves, cast a pig over the cliff to the approach- 
ing tiger. 'Thus,' they say, 'we sacrifice to 
the demons only because we fear them, not that 
we would worship them.' 

"Already thousands have turned to Christi- 
anity, and it is not strange, since they have 
such a favorable predilection for the gospel. 
The Baptists claim some 40,000 communi- 
cants among them, I am told. Other missions 
also have flourishing congregations. They make 
excellent Christians, and the change for good 
which Christianity has made, and is making, 
in them is witnessed to in emphatic terms by all 
who are in a position to speak intelligently. 

"The Karens number about three-quarters of 
a million, and are divided into three main 
tribes. They live almost entirely in the hills, 
or in the low land immediately adjacent. Who- 
ever begins work for these people must expect 
hard work, for it is difficult to visit their moun- 
tain villages; but surely the results will pay 
abundantly. O that God might lay upon some 
strong men and women the burden of this work ! 



The Rewards of Labor zgg 

Who will become the apostle of this great 
message to these hungry souls? Would it not 
be worth more, far more, than the sacrifice it 
demands to be able to stand with the redeemed 
of this people on the sea of glass and join 
with them in the song of Moses and the Lamb? 
My soul has been burdened as I think of the 
Karens still waiting for the truth. I have 
promised before God that I will leave nothing 
that lies in my power undone in my efforts to 
secure some one to begin this work." 

The first one to answer this call came a year 
later, in the person of Miss Mary Gibbs, from 
Kansas (now Mrs. DeNoyer, and still an ardent 
apostle to the Karens). She mastered their 
language in a little time; but was unable to get 
out among them alone in their inaccessible hills. 
But there were other ways. While taking a 
rest in a hill station she became acquainted 
with some neighboring Karens, and persuaded 
three boys to attend our school, which was 
just starting. Strong inducements had to be 
offered, for the hill-born love their hills. They 
had been given Christian names, — Peter, John, 
and Tom. Hardy fellows in their teens, they 
walked thirty miles to the railway — which 
wonder they had never seen before — and ar- 
rived the following day at the school. They 



300 



In the Land of Pagodas 



proved to be good workers, all three, Peter 
starting to learn carpentry, John shoemaking, 
and Tom cane-work. A Karen boy has work 











The Meiktila School Group in Late Years 

in his bones. He couldn't coax a crop out of 
the thin soil of his narrow valleys and steep 
hillsides if he had not. Besides being industri- 
ous and steady, they were fast becoming skillful. 
But those home hihs were in sight from the 
school. Their blue retreats looked so cool on 
the hot days. They are so hard for even the 
native of the plains to resist. The boys wanted to 



The Rewards of Labor joi 

go home for a visit, promising to come back. 
We permitted them to go with some hesitancy, 
for we did want to get a start among the Karens, 
and the youth are the hope of the people. But 
our worst fears were not reahzed. In a few 
days Peter returned — but all alone. He was 
the only one who didn't peter. Although mis- 
named, he is a plodder, and says little. Some- 
thing stronger than the beauty of his childhood 
haunts drew him to us. I can't explain it, only 
that it was the same drawing power that con- 
strained us to go more than half way to meet 
him. 

Peter was, and is, an unromantic hero ; but he 
is one of the elect. He was baptized, for there 
was no better way, now that he knew the truth. 
He toiled through many difficulties, for he had 
the Burmese to learn as well as all his studies, 
including English. He won by sticking. Then 
be became a missionar\^ in turn. Again he went 
home for a few weeks, and when he returned 
he brought three other Karen boys with him. 
So they were preparing for a great after-work 
among their people. 

In the meantime, G. A. Hamilton and his 
family had come from California to give them- 
selves to the Karens. As the way opened, a 
station was established at Kamamaung, sixty 



J 02 In the Land of Pagodas 

miles up the Sal ween River from Maulmain. 
It is a splendid location on a promontory over- 
looking the wide sweep of the river. Though 
it is in a wild country, where the barking deer 
are heard, and signs of tigers, elephants, wild 
boars, and snakes are abundant, yet it is in the 
midst of the Karen people. The jungle was 
cleared, and as money came a mission home was 
erected. Miss Gibbs joined the family, and 
soon a little dispensary took form. Being a 
very efficient nurse, she was in her element. 
This was the entering wedge; for the people 
were very shy. But physical pain and sickness 
seek friends. They carried the sick and injured 
to her from many miles around. Every day 
brought its novel and interesting experiences. 
The young people in a home conference raised 
money to buy a motor launch for use on the 
river and creeks, and soon it was chugging away 
to remote villages on errands of relief. 

When the station was well established, Eric 
Hare and his wife from Australia took charge, 
and the Hamiltons and Miss Gibbs moved on to 
other fields. Then came the problem of a 
school. It was hard to get the parents to see 
much light in making a sacrifice to educate their 
children; but there was a possibility of a few 
pupils, and a start must be made. And Peter 



The Rewards of Labor joj 

was ready. Hadn't he been preparing all these 
years for just such an opportunity. He was 
called to Kamamaung. Marrying a good 
little wife from among the people there, he 
started in to educate their children and win 
their hearts. He is succeeding at both. 

And this isn't all the story. That John, 
who went home and stayed there, acted later 
just like another John, whose surname was 
Mark. You will remember that Mark turned 
back from Paul and Barnabas because of the 
hardness of the way ; but afterward Paul says he 
was profitable to him for the gospel. So John, 
the Karen, afterward repented and went back to 
the school at Meiktila. He got a good training 
and now has joined Peter at Kamamaung. 
Peter and John, — a good combination. There 
is a glorious work before them for their kinsmen 
in the flesh. 

Space fails to tell of others who shine as 
rewards of labor. These are average cases met 
by the missionary. Nothing wonderful, the 
way the world counts wonderful things, but so 
satisfactory as monuments of grace. 

And we would not forget that these same 
boys were able to stay in school during the years 
of their training through the steady gifts of a 
few faithful souls in America, who sent money 



304 / In the Land of Pagodas 

regularly every month for their support. One 
of these benefactors earned her gifts, and her 
own living, by sewing. Our boys are fast 
friends of these faraway home missionaries 
whom they have never seen; and I do not 
believe heaven will present any happier scene 
than will be afforded in the meeting together 
of these globe-separated friends when missions 
are no more. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE WAY OUT 

IN THE land of pagodas, and in all lands, the 
only way out of the task of missions is 
straight through. And as to the way 
through, see a picture of the light-keeper. 

He was a little wizened old man, and he sat 
there on the smooth stone pavement with his 
knees at his chin and his arms folded across 
them. With only a rough loin cloth and a thin 
armless shirt for garments, his one touch of 
color was a wisp of silk jauntily draped over his 
mop of black hair. He had a vigil to keep and 
he was keeping it. His only movements were a 
rolling of his wad of kun from cheek to cheek, 
and the roving of his dark eyes from the candles 
to the throng and back again to the candles. 

The great pagoda rose high above him into the 
sultry tropic night, its pinnacled top seeming to 
swim in the semidarkness. Up there the little 
silver bells that fringed the golden htee jingled 
lightly in the gentle stir of a breeze. Below was 
a jargon of noise, and light — blinding, dazzling 

305 




3o6 



Where the Little Old Man Kept His Lights Burning 



The Way Out joy 

light. For the joyous Hght feast was on, and 
the famous Shwe Dagon was receiving its 
pilgrims by the tens of thousands. The shrine- 
cluttered hilltop resounded to myriads of merry 
voices, the thump -thump of drums, and the 
booming of deep-toned bells. Innumerable 
calloused feet tramped over the slippery flags 
and trampled on one another at the choked 
stairways. Round and round the consecrated 
circle the mincing and gaudy processions wound 
their way amid the blare of bands and the glare 
of lights. But through it all the little man sat 
there, while his eyes roved from the candles 
to the throng and back again to the candles. 

Gayety and laughter were the order of the 
evening. Weird and riotous music bade the 
dancing girls be nimble ; and puppet shows drew 
a thousand eyes. Demure maidens in gorgeous 
silks went sliding by on their pretty slippers, 
the bunches of fragrant flowers tucked into 
their hair delighting the nostrils of the loitering 
crowds. Even the beggars reveled on this 
night of nights, for Liberality and Prodigality 
walked abroad, and Burma was rollicking with 
joy. Still the little man sat there, and still 
his eyes roved from the candles to the throng 
and back again to the candles. 

His tiny lights were set close together all the 



jo8 In the Land of Pagodas 

way around the lower edge of his family shrine, 
built and dedicated with great ceremony in his 
boyhood. A signal honor this, to be permitted a 
place at the great Shwe Dagon for the ancestral 
devotions. The flickering flames must be kept 
alight to do homage to the beneficent Lord 
Gautama of long ago. 

A fitful gust fanned a few of the diminutive 
lights to more rapid consumption; and at last 
the watcher rose, selected a few fresh candles 
from a pile at his feet, lighted each one from the 
expiring flame of its predecessor, and pressed 
it into place on the dying ember of the other. 
Then, returning to his place, the former position 
was resumed, and the alert eyes took up again 
their roving from the candles to the throng 
and back again to the candles. 

Hour after hour through the long night the 
vigil was kept. The crowds thinned and 
dwindled slowly away. The music died to an 
occasional drumming, and the big gas-lights were 
dimmed. Coolies drowsed in the corners; and 
the stairway yawned for lingering devotees. 
Dawn showed gray in the east, and soon a 
shaft of day caught the tip of the golden htee 
far overhead. Slowly the little ring of flame 
paled to a sickly hue in the rising glory of the sun ; 
but morning found the little old man unchanged, 



The Way Out JOQ 

while his eyes roved from the candles to the dawn 
and back again to the candles. 

Devoted religious fervor — devoted persist- 
ently, though hopelessly, to "the light of 
Asia," the light that fails. Yet devoted to a 
degree that points the way for the keepers of 
the "Light of the world." 

Then keep the mission lights burning, and 
light the way to the end of the task. 

Now hear the parable of a treasure in a field. 

One day long ago a poor Burmese rice-grower 
was splashing back and forth and round and 
round after his slow bullocks and crude plow. 
His little plot was leased from the village head- 
man, and the hire of the ground was so high that 
he barely managed to supply rice and curry 
for his family twice a day throughout the year. 
He looked at the future through hopeless eyes, 
and struggled on, getting less out of life than 
the beasts he drove. 

On a raised spot at one corner of his field 
lay the remains of a small pagoda. No one 
knew who had built it. No one had repaired 
its decay. From a trim little whitewashed 
spire it had crumbled to a mound of mossy 
bricks, with just one side of its once proud 
uprightness remaining in air. For years our 
hardy farmer had looked longingly at the ground 



3 10 In the Land of Pagodas 

it occupied, for he needed every inch for culti- 
vation. And, acting on the spirit of his desire, 
his wilhng plow had cut a little into the founda- 
tions whenever it came near, until today the 
very support of the structure itself was threat- 
ened. 

He stopped the bullocks for a rest, and they 
brushed against the pile and began to pull 
at the succulent weeds at its base. An uprooted 
grass tuft started some earth falling, followed 
by dusty old bricks; and man and beasts were 
just able to get out of the way before the 
ancient pile toppled over. And there, uncovered, 
was an opening into a little hollow place. Only 
a moment the man hesitated ; and then he began 
to tear away the bricks and to reach below; for 
were not treasures sometimes hidden beneath 
pagodas? The very fear of the people to dis- 
turb a shrine made it a safe hiding place for a 
miser's treasure. 

In a few minutes his feverish search was re- 
warded; a box, containing handfuls of blood- 
red rubies, and jade, and old coins, and a 
rotting bag of gold ornaments. He was rich 
at last. Oh, the ecstasy of it! He gloated 
over the great find in a delirium of joy. But 
no, the treasure was not his, because the field 
was not his. The thought came like a cloud 



The Way Out jii 

to darken the golden prospects. Yet there was 
no one near. Replacing the box and covering 
it with debris he left his munching bullocks and 
ran for home, formulating a plan as he went. 

The faithful wife shared his secret and her 
business instinct perfected the plan. They 
could not hope to buy a small part of the field, 
for owners will not break up their possessions; 
and besides, it would arouse suspicion. How 
natural for them to buy the ground they had 
cultivated so long. But, the price! It was 
sure to be far beyond their slender resources. 
Yet they must have that field to get the trea- 
sure. They tried in vain to borrow; and then 
began to sell. First went the bullocks and plow 
and cart; then the seed-rice, and all extra cloth- 
ing they had. But they did not come near 
getting enough. Next the little house and all it 
contained went to swell the sum ; and they built 
a mat booth for a home. The man was called a 
lunatic by his neighbors; and, while they had 
no sympathy for him, they pitied his poor 
family. 

Yet the value of the land was still beyond 
what they could rake and scrape, and they 
were in despair. Then a last desperate method 
to get money suggested itself — so cruel, so 
hazardous, that few would risk it. But it was 



312 In the Land of Pagodas 

possible, and they decided to make the attempt. 
It was nothing less then to sell themselves in 
order to buy that field. The treasure once theirs 
they could buy back all they had sold, and more. 
With tears streaming down their faces they 
parted with their children for a goodly sum, 
paid by a rich neighbor in lieu of the life-long 
services of the promising little ones. There 
was every chance that something might happen 
so that the fortune would yet slip their grasp 
and they would be unable to pay the increased 
price that the purchasers would be sure to 
ask for a redemption of all they had sold. But 
there was no going back now. The required 
amount still not reached, the plunging man 
sold his wife into servitude; and, putting his 
affairs into the hands of a trusted friend, as a 
last surrender, he sold himself. There was no 
other source of revenue. But the purchase 
price was reached. His friend secured the 
field, with a clear title to all that pertained to it, 
and unearthed the treasure. 

And lo, what a transformation! Exultingly 
the now wealthy farmer went from place to 
place and redeemed at handsome prices all he 
had sold. Their wealth and joy henceforth 
was untold; and when the villagers learned 
how he had become rich, they called him "the 
wise." 




Robert A. Beckner and His Wife, Successful Missionaries to Burma 



314 I'^^ ^'he Land of Pagodas 

It will take our all to buy the field, but 
when our all is paid the field will be bought. 

And see, in the way the gospel of the kingdom 
is now going, a prophecy of how it will be 
finished in the earth. 

A trained missionary and his wife established 
a station at a strategic point in a language 
area of a heathen country. They had a full 
realization that their message must be pro- 
claimed in this generation. They knew three 
facts that made their task plain; First: that 
all the people in their section of the world 
would not be converted to their belief; for the 
gospel of the kingdom is to go as a witness only. 
Second: that the gospel would not continue 
to be witnessed at the same rate it has gone 
for the last hundred years; for God will cut it 
short at the end, and he will do a quick work. 
Third: it would not be necessary for them to 
go to every individual in their area, for their 
efforts would be multiplied by native helpers; 
and events would drive many people to come 
to them. 

Yet the greatness of the task staggered them 
with its magnitude. However, with firm faith 
in God's power to accomplish the seeming 
impossible, they settled down and began at 
the beginning. And that beginning was a home 



The Way Out 315 

established, a family altar set up, and friendly 
relations formed with the neighbors. Then 
they attacked the language. The best part of 
every day for a year was given to gaining facility 
in the vernacular; and as they learned they 
interpreted their hope into the words of those 
who lived near by. In time the community 
found that they had come to stay, to stay to do 
good, and to stay to do good for others. 

They started a Sabbath school, though at 
first they taught only each other; they started 
a day school, though it began with a few children 
clustered about the teachers' knees ; they started 
a dispensary, though it consisted at first of 
only a few bottles of simple remedies and 
a pail and cloths ; they started a publishing work 
by translating a single leaflet and having it 
printed at a native press. However primitive, 
every agency of successful gospel propagation 
was begun. And soon all grew. 

The missionaries came into contact with 
thousands of natives in course of a few years' 
work; yet seemed to make but little impression 
on the great majority of them. But a few able 
men were won and trained to work, and they 
in turn were able to establish out-stations and 
extend the influence of the leaders. The mis- 
sionaries sought to impress every heart they 



The Way Out jj/ 

touched with a few simple facts; that Jesus 
saves men from sin, and is soon to come to this 
earth; that the Bible is the guide book to 
heaven, and that it foretells certain world 
events which will be signs of the near approach 
of Christ. Hundreds came and went, children 
attended school and passed on, scores were 
helped physically and scattered to the four 
winds; and very few forgot the words of truth 
dropped by the missionaries. 

Then the Great War struck the world like a 
flash of lightning. The news of the awful con- 
flict spread to the remote corners of the globe. 
It is remarkable how quickly news flies from 
mouth to mouth among peoples who have no 
railroads, telegraphs, telephones, newspapers, 
nor any other rapid means of communication. 
Around the camp-fires of savages, about the 
rice-pots of ignorant toilers, in the little markets 
of far-off villages, in the councils of heathen 
fathers, rose the inevitable question, "What 
does it all mean?" And always coupled with 
this came the other question, "What is coming 
next?" Then in many a center rose up a man 
or a boy who had heard the wondrous story 
that echoed every day at the mission station; 
and he would tell the little he knew, — just 
enough to whet the desires of the people for more. 



Ji8 In the Land of Pagodas 

Soon from many quarters messages and 
messengers began coming in to the gospel 
center asking for answers to the great question 
that was on the Ups of all, "What next?" 
And the faithful missionaries gave the answer in 
printed form to every comer, instructed the 
inquirers, and thanked God that their message, 
though unpopular, was as inseparably connected 
with world events, which are popular, as a 
vital answer is connected with a burning ques- 
tion. Wherever the question rose the answer 
was forthcoming, and far and wide went the 
stirring message of impending catastrophe to 
a world of wickedness, and glorious deliverance 
for the people of the true God. 

When such stations are established and main- 
tained in ever}^ language area on earth, and the 
warring nations gasp in the last throes of 
strife, then the Spirit of God will move upon 
whosoever will to seek him for salvation, 
the missionaries will be ready to bear witness, 
"and then shall the end come." 

THE END 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



029 926 273 A 



